And All the Years After
by veronicamarsl3ve
Summary: Sequel to Those Nine Years. Veronica has just solved the case to launch her career. Logan is still on deployment, and the aches of his absence are always present. This story covers the time span of Logan and Veronica's future. Giving you a glimpse into what their lives could be. How will Veronica react when she learns Logan is now a prisoner of war? How will it affect their future?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! Here is the first chapter of the sequel to Those Nine Years. It kind of came to me, and took a crazy turn. I hope you like it! Please let me know your thoughts, as reviews make my day :)**

**This story picks up a few weeks after where the book finishes. It will have a little different feel to it than the last story. It will still jump around in time, but it has an actual sequence to the story and even a mystery to it this time.**

**Thanks for reading!**

Veronica:

Tick, tock, tick tock. _I swear Mac purchased the old clock just to taunt me. _My very unattractive growl reeks with everything not feminine as I take in the display of my combat boots hiked up on the desk. These treasures had been resurrected from the grave a lot here recently, me secretly so glad I had not decided to pitch them two years ago when I was determined to do that closet cleaning. Truth was it was the sappy inner girl in me, the one that liked the feeling of military edge to them. They had to be at least somewhat similar to the type _he _wore.

My sighs are so dramatic these days. Dramatic and room consuming. I was not beyond a pity party, and everyone had taken notice. Boyfreind gone on deployment was a good enough reason to throw yourself the sad party every now and then, right?

130 down- 60 more to go. The inner countdown was something as involuntary as breathing now. I could almost see the pieces of paper being ripped off the calendar each day or that huge timer counting down the seconds in large numbers.

I stare at the pile of papers before me, the recent buzz of the case I solved hitting national news, had been good for the business. The work was failing though. It was my distraction, my only distraction from my chaotic world. With the case that launched my career brought a hundred other problems- mom back into my life- with hey! The surprise of a baby brother. And as always mom brought each one of her dirty garments with her. Dad and Cliff had been working by her side non stop to try and prove her innocence. That her husband acted alone, that she was unaware. Me? Well, I was noticeably absent, though I hated to admit the extra runs for ice cream with the little brother had started to warm the cold spots of my heart. The attachment was not one I was looking for, but as I have learned you can't quite control who your heart latches on to.

Speaking of-

I click the refresh button on my email as I frown. No emails, none in seven days and well the silence is almost like a torture chamber. I am sure I am being dramatic, but like I said drama and longing and all of those other girly emotions are well.. Just me now. _Logan Echolls, you went and made a sap out of me._ I smirk at the thought. He always tried hard too, I gave him an A for effort.

The hot sun rays trickle through the large windows, and sometimes I try to blame my lack of motivation on the heat wave. But me and everyone else know how untrue that is.

Click again, same frown appears only deeper lines. I hated the stomach clenching, burning pit the radio silence caused. My mind liked to play fill in the blank- and a week with no email, no contact. Suddenly my cynical and doubtful side was taking over.

The bell on the door chimes and I always laugh at the fact that dad had installed one. _Weren't those for places trying to portray warmth and joy? Weren't we anything but those descriptions?_

I inwardly let out a long slur of groans and expletives at the sight I am sure I am about to see. Another woman wanting my services to prove her husband is... You fill in the blank. I have seen every rendition or scenario that could possibly play out. Call me jaded or maybe I am just missing my man, but this world seemed nastier than normal.

_Logan. _His face flashes, with all its dimpled glory and all its charm. Warmth and joy were never lost on me with him present.

I hear the clop of shoes in the doorway, based on the sound it is a man and I peak up with interest at the change in clientele as I snap the large lap top screen in front of me shut to get a better look at my new customer.

Bright blue eyes, and tousled hair. I had seen that face a million times, and now it rings with a distant remembrance. Like something placed far in the recesses of your mind, though I had just known it so well only months ago. I swallow hard and he seems to delight in my jaw to floor expression. Like he had been expectantly looking forward to it.

"Piz.." My voice is raspy as he walks in further.

"Veronica Mars, I need your help."

Logan:

Lungs restrict, as the icy liquid pours in through my mouth and nose. Startled with clenched hands and jaw, my body shakes in waves as I grip the wall behind me. The water droplets trickle down my cheeks as a seething glare now takes over my worn face.

The man holding the bucket gnashes his teeth before bursting in taunting laughter. It didn't matter that he spoke a different language. Mocking sounds the same in every language. It was universal. He speaks fervently and hastily, me only making out bits and pieces of the Arabic. I knew very little, but as far as I could tell pig and dog were mentioned. My eyes glazed with a pain I pushed back as death slurred from his lips, the beard around them wet with sweat and the lines of his face worn with bitterness. Seems that was universal as well, the aged lines of loathing and hate.

The groans from the corner make my eyes dart, Louis stirring as he moaned from the fresh scars they painted his back with yesterday. He was younger than me, by several years and the way he now looked at me much resembled a child searching for security. I nodded now with resolve and the look of no terror I wore well seemed to bring him an ounce of peace, before his assigned guard began the screaming again.

I pressed my back against the wall as I still numbly stared at the raging man in front of me. My body flinches, the scars on my backside now stinging as I adjusted. I had sworn to never let a new patch of forever wounds land on my skin. That was until the day I became a prisoner of war. Now, in five days I had already gained a cluster of new friends to join the ones my father gave. My captors had more fierce ways to inflict pain, but somehow I had found a shred of thankfulness for the bastard of a father I had been granted. He prepared me for this. For the beating of my life.

I had learned that angry men eventually run out of words to say, at least for a time being. Just keep silent and wait. Keep my usual edge and snark under control and just wait. That was all I could do, and Louis seemed to learn from me as he mimicked the behavior. That always sigh of relief fills me as the men we knew so little of, but who hated us greatly, left.

I shut my eyes,head slamming against the wall. "You okay?" I ask the young boy across the room.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." His voice shook. "I am fine."

_Fine._ I held back the scoff._ We were anything but fine. _One moment you are executing a mission. Two planes sent out for a quick and easy job- the next beyond anyone's help as you are shot down from the sky. What was supposed to be a stealth attack failed and now you are left up to the hope that maybe they will find you. That maybe you wont rot here, or worse be killed before your brothers even have a hope of finding you.

I growl in discmofort as the stinging pain returns, my body going limp as I find a spot to curl into on the dirt covered floor. The sounds of the distant guards yelling and the churning smell of putrid decay are all around us. The mildew hangs in the air, and the blood is caked across our bodies. Our flight suits are now tattered rags from each flogging we endured. Me getting their wrath more as I purposefully would piss them off as they zeroed in on the man with me. I knew I could endure it better, had better chances of surviving. I had some experience.

Bleak is the only word that comes to mind in this living embodiment of hell. The fear and gnaw of what I have to lose is all over me, though my outward signs scream of apathy. I wanted her, I wanted more than _this. _The vivid scenes of our "what could have been" life plays out before me. I have plenty of time to create the scenes, and hell I know it is morbid considering my circumstances and the chances and odds. But I do it anyways.

The beach house, I had decided was modest in size like she wanted, four bedrooms and 3 baths. Blue siding on the outside and a long porch overlooking the sandy beaches. The kitchen was full of white cabinets and gray granite, the perfect blend of modern and comfort that we found in the middle of our tastes. I could almost smell the coffee, and feel the wind with my board in hand trudging up the surf. My senses play at me as a I grip the dirt, the reality that I may never feel the soft sand again or the salt water against my skin. The burning comfort it possessed as it washed over me.

Porch in sight her blonde hair sweeps across her face, and I have seen the sight so many times it fills every part of my memory. Her waiting at the end of the beach for me as I return. It is simple and yet heart warming, especially with the pigtails that peak out from behind her legs. I smile now, dimples and blonde hair, my brown eyes and her button nose. I see it like it was truly before me and I mourn for what never will be.

Her voice reverberates in my ear. I know exactly what she would say. "Looking good." Or "We have a few minutes before my man comes back."

That would be the way she greeted me, coffee in hand. I think of how I would kiss her like it's my last time. I know full and well that the last time has already occurred and there is no regret present. As I would do it the exact same way as I did. Slow and sweet, full of the presence of all she was, and will always be to me. Until my days run out. I swallow hard at the numbered days I was now facing. I am not scared of dying. It was a risk we all took when joining. Hell, I knew death was always following me closely, all my life. What I was scared of was far more frightening than death. I was scared of wherever I ended up. That place I knew _she_ would not inhabit.

Giggles are now loudly playing through out my head, drawing me back into the alternate world. The one where I got everything I wanted. A lifetime with _her_.

I had never been around enough children to know the sound well, but somehow it as clear as a bell as I wrap the combination of me and the person I loved most, in my arms. She is perfection in human form, and the shocking sensation of the same level of love being dispersed towards her hits me like a stake to the heart. Never had I thought I could love anyone as much as Veronica and now I see the possibility staring me right in the face. The possibility I am missing out on.

Veronica groans and huffs towards the house. "The boy gets up every hour on the hour. So glad we can afford my coffee addiction." My face scrunches as she eyes me. "You get her dressed and I will take junior Echolls. He tends to be moody like his daddy."

I chuckle with a laughter and sob, the action almost escaping into my reality as I peer around the poorly made cell. Eyes tightly close now as the visions grow more blurry and the sentiments of _them_ begin to darken.

My breaths slow and I find myself often begging to a higher power that I will see them in my dreams. Maybe there I will get one last glimpse, before this all ends. A tear slips out from my tightly shut eyes and I wipe it away before my body goes limp.

Veronica Mars. She had saved me more times than I could count. But this problem I believe was just out of her reach.

"_It's 180 days, Veronica. What's 180 days to us? Our story is epic. Spanning years and continents."_

A silent resolve fills my nerves and bones, my veins throbbing with the fight of hope. _Could we add this to the list of all we could endure? _I smile faintly as her face is clearly before me. The tenacity and fight. _I knew to never underestimate her._


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is chapter 2! Thanks so much for all the comments, follows and favorites! Seriously, you guys never cease to amaze me with how great you are :)**

**To answer a question that was brought to my attention a few times- don't worry! Logan won't be a prisoner throughout the entire story. I believe in happy endings and I plan on this fic going into their future quite a bit :) **

**Thanks for reading and please, please review and let me know what you think!**

Veronica:

Eyes blinking wildly, and him still grinning like a cheshire cat. I scoot out the chair, it bringing a screeching noise, adding to the awkward stare down with my recent ex.

Don't get me wrong seeing him had a niceness to it, mostly it just being that I knew he was still alive. There had not been much communication over the last few months, if you know what I mean. And well, being the person who broke his heart, I didn't feel comfortable to pull the friend card just yet. I was scared I would take docile Piz over the edge with that one. I would always care for him though. Maybe not in the way he hoped, but our friendship was a lot longer than our other relationship and I hoped he would come around to the idea at some point. Maybe now was that time.

I reach out, arms stretching as I go with instinct that I should hug him. _I mean that is what I should do, right?_ After all our history.

Our bodies meet and it as uncomfortable as I imagined, my mind immediately noting how the embrace reminds me much of forcing two puzzle pieces together that do not belong. I wonder how I never saw it, if it was so plain in just a simple hug, that we never were meant to me more than just what we were. _Friends._

_ How did I go so long without the nerve crackling sensations of skin against skin, a cool heat- like fire and ice colliding?_ My body shakes in reminder to the feeling and my heart sinks yet again at who comes to my mind with all such things related to desire and fire. I resist the urge to pull away and hit the refresh button again. That would be considered rude, I do believe.

I pull back and there are those Bambi eyes I had gotten to know so well. It reminds me much of when I first met him, all disoriented with losing all his earthly belongings. The hair is just different, though I notice it playing at his ears. _A sign of heart broken depression?_ I make the psychological evaluation, as my inner self berates me right back. _Stop assuming he is upset over you. That translates in pity and he hates that._

My mouth feels suddenly dry with all the polite do's and don't's and social edict that must go along with these types of situations. I had never been good at the ways of polite and deemed behavior and suddenly I wished I had the dummies guide book before me.

I lick my lips as the words hang on my tongue oddly, I had said his name a thousand times, yet now it just seemed all wrong. "Piz."

I grin back though I am scared it is a grit, but the contorted expression is natural as my mind is playing all the millions of reasons of why he was here for a visit. I had not heard from him, except once as we arranged for the movers to pack and ship my things. Nothing before that and nothing after. And here he was with broad smile, standing before me, standing in the middle of the life I left him for.

Immediately that kick to the stomach feeling of fear of his pleading to make us work inches into the back of my mind, and I suddenly am nauseous at the thought of having to reject him yet again. I was all out of words to even remotely comfort him. There really is no way to spin, _yeah we dated for over a year, but I was still pining away after the one person you can't stand the most._

"You said that already." He smirks as he draws me back to his actual presence before me. _Don't assume, Veronica. You know what happens to people that assume? _My brow furrows at the thought, I actually never understood what happens to those people.

I let out hoarse breaths of subdued laughter as I try to cover up the fact I am lost in my own world of elimination and deduction. I keep trying to size him up, but I am coming up empty.

"It is good to see you. How are you?" My voice shrills up in an unnatural tone as I motion to the empty chair for him to sit.

He lets out one of those dramatic sighs accompanied with that_ I know you better than that_ look. I shift uncomfortably in my seat now in response as he answers.

"Uh, you know doing alright. And you? I see you back at work at the fine establishment of the family business."

I nod as I interlock my hands suddenly very interested in the slightly chipped black nail polish on my fingers. "Yeah, it runs in the Mars genes I do believe, all lack of friendly encounters and straight to detecting the lies and mystery with them. Such a pain if you ask me. Makes it hard to make friends." I bite the tip of my tongue as I grimace, I always tend to ramble when nervous.

"Well, in the name of honesty and knowing your BS detector is never off... My faked ignorance in your job was a lame attempt at looking somewhat cool."

I smirk now as I now finally recognize him. "Hm, well your lying has improved. My BS detector wasn't even chirping."

This makes him laugh as his eyes glaze over with that fond _I miss you_ expression and I just pray that the words don't actually escape him, my breath sucking in with dread. "Yeah, well I have kept tabs on you. Seems like you have been a busy girl and popular, I might add."

"You know me, I've always been popular." My sarcasm is always on perfectly when I feel the most uneasy, his words of keeping tabs did not fall onto deaf ears as I am trying hard not to dwell on all their implications, subtle or not subtle.

I swear a band of crickets has joined us now as the silence fills the room with it's partner in crime- tension. There are a lot of words there. Mostly on his end- ones of anger, sadness, betrayal. It is clear- I can read it all over him. After all I was an expert at that, reading the subtle signs of the human body language. Right now he is a dead give away- heart broken. The bags placed beneath his once bright blue eyes , and the shaggy hair and scruff formed around his face are all things Piz never let adorn his physical appearance.

"So." I state as I straighten. Time to shine a light on that big, beautiful elephant in the room. "Why are you here, Piz?" My head cocks with a smirky mouth following as it finishes what my words don't. _We all know there is a motive._

His laughter has a despondent ring to it as he slouches, eyes slitting with an ironic humor. "Yeah, so you wouldn't buy 'friendly visit'?"

I suck in my lips with a large head shake. "Mm. Nope. My Bull Shit Detector would be sounding loudly on that one."

His elbows are on his knees now as he taps his hard sole shoes along the hard woods. His delayed responses are all out of rhythm as he chuckles again. "Yeah, well, you could say my life has taken the saying- 'shit hit the fan' to a different level." He pauses a moment and I see an enjoyment in his face now as he watches me flinch. The look unsettles me a bit as I now see a more vengeful side to him as he likes to watch me squirm. I could not blame him, I deserved it. But knowing I created the nasty edge bothered me. "Once you and I called it quits, the universe decided it was time to unload all of its abuse on me. After I watched the movers pack all your stuff and ship it off to your new life, or might I say old one." He winks and the action is so off kilter to what belongs. "I decided it was time for a good visit back to Oregon. Good old family time would be just what I needed." He leans back, arms on the rests now, as he still seems to smile at whatever ironic twist this story takes. "So one bored evening and a bottle of some sort of cheap tequila, I found myself rifling through some old boxes. Thought I would find some baby photos or maybe some good memories to wax nostalgic on instead of just the crap going on in the present." His hands go up dramatically. "Thus when the bomb went boom."

"What are you saying?"

"What I am saying is, my beloved name, that everyone loves to refer to me- isn't even my own. I am literally a walking no man- nothing I thought was real is real, Veronica. Which is why I am here. The next twist of irony- the only person who can help me, is my ex girlfriend."

I scrunch up my face as I grab a pen, the cap already making it to my lips in nervous habit. "Are you saying?"

He nods. "Yup, I am adopted. And have no earthly idea of where the hell I come from."

My stomach drops as my lips part, his beaten expression is hard to observe. Seems Stosh Piznarski has joined the club. The club of Parental Screw Ups Anonymous. This one was a real doozy to be apart of, and judging by the new lines around his once twinkling eyes. I think he knows that.

"I am so sorry. I really am." I cringe at how inappropriate my words sound. It was hard not to feel the edge of the blade named guilt stab into my gut. _After all wasn't it my fault he found out the information anyhow?_

"Yeah, It was a fun one to find. Those adoption papers and my once name. Baby- blurred out last name. Yeah, I was a regular John Doe."

"How can I help?" That seems to be the only fitting thing to say. He is here for a reason and me expressing anymore sympathy would probably stir this new hostile version more.

"I need you to do what you do best, Veronica Mars." He softens now as his eyes fall on my disturbed face. "I need you to find my real parents."

"The paperwork-"

He interrupts. "I already looked into, even confronted my parents. All of that information is sealed and well they knew nothing as well."

I say the next words quietly like I am stepping on each delicate egg shell around us. "And your parents. They didn't say why they never told you?"

"Eh, you know. Same reasons you always hear." His answer is vague and laced with a sourness. "So, can you help me?"

Oh the inner conflicts of my head have a repetitive and unpleasant sound. Desire to help him collides with the equally unwelcome feeling of not wanting to travel down that path. Guilt was always present with him, and now took first place as I gave way to the feelings of old friendship. After all, the selfishness of wanting to waller in my own self pity over missing Logan was not a good enough reason to blow him off, correct? _Logan. _I feel like my ex almost hears the name reverberate off the walls of my mind in loyalty and passion. My insides twist inside out and back in. _That should be a lovely convo._ Piz wasn't stupid, I knew he had put together all the facts about my new, old life. But we had not said it out loud and well my deployed boyfriend was bound to come up sooner or later. I inwardly shrug to myself- _maybe this case will help you not mope. Give you something to do as you wait. Piz would love that. By the way, thanks for the case, it should help me kill some time while I desperately wait for Logan to come back._

My nose turns up like a true sour smell has been wafted underneath it. _Piz seemed to always take that role. Place holder, distraction. _The words were bitter and nasty to taste as they hung right there on the tip of my bridled tongue. The now common stern corrections began to take place in my deranged and lonely mind.

His eyebrows raise. "Veronica?"

I jerk. "Huh?' I try to throw off the spastic movements with reaching my hand to massage my suddenly tense neck.

"You didn't answer."

I take deep cleansing breaths as I plant my palms to the table. "I will help. So, what information do you have?"

Logan:

No windows, no ability to determine the time of day. I had never dwelt on the idea of what that must feel like, the psychological mind games it played. I go back in forth to old lectures that freshman year of college, the prisoner and guard theory we studied that first week. I had analyzed to a level, the mental actions that each category possessed, but nothing came close to the reality of living it. I had just thought _those _48 hours were hell.

The many species of spiders and scorpions among us are always lovely guest and I find myself sparing their lives the last day or so, before smashing each one in sight. I hope it isn't a sign of my lack of faith in our escaping, but suddenly all life seems slightly more precious, and my cell mates seem no different to me now. Who was I to judge what could go on living or what would die? I wasn't god. I shake my head. _Great philosophies, Logan._

"How do you think your parents are holding up?" Louis says with a cry quivering through his tone. I jerk my lowered head as the only sound of water dripping has been replaced by his voice. He was a tough guy, Louis. He was the show off, the young one always in need of a moment to prove his importance. Quite honestly he had been the obnoxious one that most avoided, and though he had not once verbally spoken the admittance of being scared, it was clear, he was terrified.

"I don't have any parents. They are both dead." I am shocked by how this regular stated fact evokes emotion in me that has not be present in years. I guess that is what the ideas and reactions to imprisonment do to you.

"Oh." He says like he has stepped on a land mine. "Sorry."

"It is fine. It has been a long time now."

"So do you have any other family?"

Stings and aches erupt through me, they are so real I swear my new wounds are bleeding. My shoulders give as I slouch, eyes back on him as the back of my head rolls against the wall. "Yes." I don't explain the unconventional nature of them. All that matters is that they exist.

"And a girl?" This particular question struck a chord in him as his voice cracks even more. _I guess Louis had someone at home that he loved too. _"Do you have a girlfriend or wife at home?" He finishes and the lack of knowledge he has for me after all this time isn't surprising, but instead of making me angry, I just pity us. Both of us. The fact that it took this type of scenario for us to talk and the fact that his question is true. I do have a girl back home, and the thought of leaving her alone is like a nightmare I can't quite escape.

I swallow, the dust in the air coats thick on the back of my throat. "Yeah, yeah I do."

"Me too." He interjects somberly. "Fiancee, actually."

"Congratulations." I say flatly as we both choose not acknowledge the dwindling hope of him ever making her his wife.

"You love her?" He asks.

Eyes shut tight now as my head knocks harder and faster against the prison walls of my life, the one slipping right through my fingers. "Yeah. More than anything."

I had been tough, hard even, as I tired to steer him though this predicament we had found ourselves in. He would crack if I wasn't anything but resolved, almost cold. It was for his own good, and I had been correct in the instinct, because as soon as she came up -my tough exterior melted. And with it he saw the glimpses of glazed eyes and heart ache, and in the realization he began to sob. His steady anchor was just as scared as him. I was just as fearful of losing the people I loved, forever.

I fight the urge to go hug him, as lacking of masculine charm as that is, I don't really care. He is the last person I may see and though I may not be old, his youth is a depressing fact staring before me.

"Don't dwell on the negative." I state, gaining my curter tone as he pears up through tears and blood shot eyes. "You got to love her. You got to meet your person." My lips tremble, as I suck them in, biting the corner so the physical pain is temporarily more prominent than the emotional. "No matter what happens.. Some people live a lifetime and never experience it. We are lucky."

"Lucky?" He chuckles. "I don't so. I think those bastards that find the girl and get to have the house and picket fence. Dog and baby. They seem to be the lucky ones."

My mouth goes ajar as my breaths have an uneven hitch to them, the air sucking in with a jolt as I hear the familiar and vile accents fill the halls, making my sore ribs ache. I rub my hand along them as I caress the tender spot, the places they kicked with fervent determination at my spitting at their boot. I guess that jack ass side in me could not stay subdued forever. Either way, I think the moment of defiance was worth the ass kicking I received.

Louis tenses up as he always does and I shake my head at him as I a signal to relax. They always played off the fear.

It was obviously a shift change as they guards walking in now were different than the ones hours before. These two had the reputation of being the most cruel and though none of them brought warm fuzzies to my soul, these particular ones were evil in human form.

My body releases a cold sweat as I eye the ropes draped across the first one's body, the chair and old video recorder in the other's. It was obvious what was next and the unsettling feeling of it and what it entailed spread through each sensor. I had a feeling the days of just beatings and scourging were behind us, as the unorganized group of men that seemed out just for vindictive purpose, now appeared to have a plan.

The one with the ropes leaned into my face with his sour breath and spitting laughter. I resisted the urge to wipe the droplets from my face, out of fear of what the act would induce, but his spraying laughter seemed purposeful as he now spit with determination right at my cheek. I gritted my jaw as I wiped the hot saliva from me and he seemed pleased at the anger coursing through my face in red tones.

He walked back over to his partner as they chatted, their words far too spastic and quick for me to make any out, but by the way they were eyeing us back and forth-it was clear they were deciding who to choose for their "project."

I wasn't surprised when the approached me, my body found a straighter and more rigid stance as they jerked me up. I knew there was no use fighting them as they tied me to the chair, but my heart quickened pace as they hustled about. Louis's breaths were so loud and full of anxiety that I could hear them even through the racing heart beat in my ears. Again I found determination to calm him as we locked eyes, as the men ushered in large card stock and the words in english filling them was like a cold wet cloth to the face.

Someone more powerful and resourceful was running this show, and I looked onto the two pawns in emotionless gaze. They pointed to the cards as one stood before me, the red light from the dated camera casting a foggy haze across the room.

The words written like a plea ridden ransom note- made sour bubbles form in my gut. The words of helplessness and begging, the state of how they portrayed us. The presence of what they wanted conveyed to our loved ones, to our country. The speech was as sickening as it was pathetic and I smirked in the following thought._ Sucks for them that they so happened to shoot down the most stubborn SOB that the military had to offer. And it sucks for them that I always put up a fight._

I refused to give it to them, the pitiful soldier, begging for his life.. I would never be seen as weak, and I would never let the representation of this country be so. And most importantly. I swallow with a strength. I wouldn't let _her _see me scared.

They point at the cards again and I chuckle. "No english?" I spout with delight.

They don't understand much, but they understand that as I meet the fist of the sign holder. He growls orders my way and I throw my head back as I study the ceiling as a taunting symbol, since my hands aren't free, my version of shooting them the finger.

The one videoing turns almost a violet shade as his veins swell, and I note I have never seen a man so angry that they reached this color. He shakes my by the collar and though his screams and punches are mean and hateful I still find resolve to stand ground.

Once he sees my lack of fear he turns to repeatedly punch the wall and the other begins to pace the small dirt room. They both mutter back and forth and one points to Louis as they each nod.

I look at him with almost command."Don't give them what they want. The sooner you do, the sooner they finish us." He nods, and though I feel doubt creep in at his ability I notice that same inner strength pooling behind his icy blue eyes. He is thinking about _his _girl now.

They throw me in my corner and they slur their words back and forth as they rip the ropes from me to now restrain my cell mate. I smile a little as they both stare at me with annoyance and my look of spiteful inclination seems to register too deep to the still purple man. He crosses his arms as he eyes me with a coolness and with it I lose all color. A silent rage had always been more deadly than the most torrential ones. I knew that from a lifetime of experience.

He states a command with a poisonous grin and I make out one word as his buddy perks up to the request. _Belongings._

They had searched us thoroughly upon our arrival but I had managed to hide the small wallet sized form of her, nestled into a fold on the inside of my flight suit. As soon as we had reached our cell I placed it under the poor excuse of a pillow and religiously moved it's hiding place. Now, I knew the keepsake had a target on it, and suddenly I felt vulnerable.

They rifled through my things and with each turn and look I cringed, my body going rigor mortis state as they pulled out the photo from the wrapped cloth. One licked it as he made suggestive gestures and my fists tightened, my finger nails burrowing into my palms. The other snatched the photo, kissing the air around me as he waved the security blanket- good luck charm- last article of importance- in front of me.

Protectiveness was like second nature with Veronica, and as irrational as it seemed, the fact that they knew what she looked like, that she was important to me- it made me reel with anger. I was supposed to protect her, and now she was exposed and I was exposed- she was my weakness and they would use it. Sure they wouldn't be able to get her physically, but they would use the emotional attachment for all its was worth. And it was worth a fortune.

They were getting what they wanted, the sick bastards had such pleased grins as I could not help but practically growl at them. My clenched jaw, my tightened fists, that _just try_ look beaming from me. It was like an area I had no control of, my flight reflux to Veronica Mars and any time I felt she was threatened. It didn't matter that she was thousands of miles away, safe in Neptune. No, all that mattered was just the mention of her harm, and I revolted. Just an inkling of it and you better believe I will go out with fists swinging.

Louis is staring at me now, I can see he is frightened at the display on my face as our captors are delighted. The cold, emotionless man they had each witnessed was no where to be found, as the hot tempered and plagued with emotion version was before them. They all knew my underbelly and now I was in their control more than I liked.

They turned towards Louis and I speak up hurriedly as they clutch the picture, their hands on even an image of her makes me want to hurl.

"I'll do it." I say losing all reason, as my judgement is clouded for possession of the old photo.

They seem to understand as they have malicious laughter in response, yanking me up- they took delight in wearing the older, stubborn one down. I fall into my place as the old saying rolls through my head as they retrieve the video camera. _Everyone has a weakness. _Mine was and had always been- Veronica Mars. It wasn't like it was new information to me.

The red light is on me now as I eye the large letters, licking my lips. "My name is Lieutenant Echolls. Me and my fellow aviator Louis Hopkins were shot down and have been taken prisoner." My voice catches as I lose the ability to control it, the words are coming out with pure force now. "We beg for you to listen to their requests. Please, we want to come home. We want to see our families. Please don't let us suffer anymore." The last statement is the worst as I feel my face contort in anger as I say it slowly.

They seem pleased as they shut the camera and look on me with what appears to be pathetic impression as the one holding my prized possession retrieves a lighter from his pocket, my screams of objection are louder than any of the ones caused by their physical torture, as I watch the picture go up in flames. They kick it to the ground as I collapse to my knees, like a starving dog desperate for food, I go for it, my hands scalding in the flame as I watch it dissolve into nothingness.

Piz:

Veronica runs her finger down the page one more time as she silently moves her lips along.I smile as I take in the sight, her old habit, as I hate myself equally for still adoring it. Her firecracker eyes are on me now and I can see the wave of discomfort as she catches me in the gaze, though she ignores it and continues with business.

"I mean it is like you said. There is really nothing here. Except that you were adopted from The Richland Agency in Seattle." She sighs heavily as she pushes back into her large office chair. I have to hold back the chuckle of seeing her small frame encompassed by the massive furniture.

"So?"

"So." She clears her throat as she shuts the file. "My dad was already having Wallace and Mac over for dinner. He has found cooking to be therapeutic in his injured state." She smiles softly though it never reaches her eyes, the look hitting the already hanging pieces of my heart. _I never saw it reach her eyes when directed at me._"You should come. He always goes crazy and makes too much and there is nothing more we can do tonight on the case."

She seems genuine though I know she is struggling to force the invite. That stings too, but I guess my pride can take another shot because I cave. Here I hated her, or so I told myself, yet I knew I never really could. "How can I turn down such an offer?" I feel that gnawing sense of regret as I selfishly had steered clear of any personal questions of her. I guess I knew where they would go or to who, rather. "How's your dad, by the way?" I grimace as outwards signs of remorse at my insensitivity.

"He is doing better." She lights with that expression only reserved for him. I go down memory lane at the sight and note the only other time I noticed a designated look for someone, his name rolling through my head like a mocking laugh.

I clear my throat. "So to dinner?"

She nods in acceptance as she stands. "We have tomorrow to tackle this." She pats the folder as she walks toward the door, the loud clomp of her shoes bringing in my attention.

"Nice shoes." I say as I look at the large pair of black leather combat boots, I could have sworn she gave those away last year. My head gets lost in last year and suddenly I feel sick as she steps closer, her little nose and bright eyes in my line of sight.

"Do you have a car?"

I sigh with disturbed expression as I rub my hand along my worn features. She notices, she notices everything, but chooses not to ask. I don't know if it bothered me or not- but the fact she treads lightly on anything personal should be a sign of how much feelings are left for me.

"Uh, no, took a cab."

"Okay, I can give you a ride." Her voice is reserved as she locks up the office and it is silent between us we head down the stairs, and I wonder how after all that time together it can be this forced?

She retrieves another set of keys from her leather bag, another article of clothing of her past suddenly reappearing. I have no time to process as my attention is taken to the chirping noise echoing from the navy convertible in my line of sight.

She smiles sheepishly as I pivot my head her way, a shrug following as she has a sense of pride crawling into it. The entire thing reeks of one person and I feel the sentiment is like tattooing his name on her, though I could be being dramatic.

"New car?" I manage to hide my venom seeping from my teeth.

She starts it, and the beautiful roar makes me want to hurl over the door, or better yet on the upholstered leather. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." Her eyes twinkle and that adoration practically dripping off her at barely a mention of him is like his right hook- painful and bruising.

"Echolls dealership I am guessing?"

Her eyes flash toward me, I suppose venom was intact in that last statement. Her features soften in a sympathetic expression and I just want to hide. I hated that more than anything- that look, the one where she felt sorry for me. _Oh sorry, Piz. Sorry I never loved you. Sorry I love him. _

"It is Logan's car." I reach my fingers around the leather at his name on her lips. The way she said it was delicate and feminine and- unlike anything she ever said to me. Her beautiful face had a glow to it that made her more stunning and my lips sucked in the thin air around me in a whistle. _Veronica was in love. _

I nod as she continues. "He is on leave right now. I am car sitting." I perk up now at the first bit of good news.

"So he isn't here?"

She frowns and I match it, just for different reasons. My dim expression had nothing to do with missing Logan Echolls. "No." Her answer is short and weak.

"So." I draw out the syllables in long awkward pauses. "You two?"

She nods and I can see her teeth nip at her lips to hide the smile the question provokes. "Yeah, we are. I, uh-" She shakes her head. "I am sorry- I don't know how to-"

I hold up a hand in protest. "It's fine. I already figured you know- it is you and Logan, and thus follows epic developments. Always has."

She pulls the car in front of the bungalow home and I take it in as I try not to replay the last time I was outside of it with her. That girl and guy, they were far gone now.

"So, about your visit?"

"Yeah. Lets keep the reasoning private for now. If that is ok?"

"Client confidentiality."

I open the door in a huff. "Glad it is so professional for you." I say under my breath, though I know she hears it as she passes by me.

Her shoulders rise and fall as she unlocks the door,_ seems my ex is uneasy about my visit. _The keys clink in the door and she pushes it open with large, expectant grin, the kind that makes me remember that I still love her. "Show time."

Wallace and Mac are both propped on the couch with beers in hand as their mouths form the distinct shape of an O. They look back and forth between me and their blonde friend before Wallace jumps to his feet.

"Stosh Piznarski!" The bear hug I am greeted with almost makes the trip worth it, that is until I pull back to see the silent communication between Mac and Veronica as she tries to size up why I am here. Veronicas large shake of a head in no response makes me want to raid the fridge for that cheap beer Mr. Mars keeps.

"Piz." Mac smiles warmly as she brings me into a hug, though I swear I feel the pity there too,

Keith's head is rounding the corner now as he does a double take. "Stosh, is that you?" His face lifts into a gently placed smile and I feel a knock to the chest at his appearance. He is still tattered and bruised and I can only imagine what his appearance was like months ago. I feel pain, guilt- I had not been here. One look her way to check her status of emotional stability brings back the clarity of how far in the past the event was and how in that moment she didn't need me. _She needed him._

"Afraid so." I respond as I choke on the bitterness of my last thought as he throws the dish towel on the counter, reaching in for a hug. I can feel he is thinner than the last time I saw him, and I try not to act reserved as I fight the feeling of being gentle. "Wanted to stop in and see everyone. I stopped by to see Veronica first and she invited me for dinner." I awkwardly place my hands in my pockets. "Don't worry, I am not here to beg for her back. Just old friends and all."

There are moments where you absolutely loathe yourself, and right now I genuinely do. I really do. Between Mac's look of horror, Wallace's groan and Keith's blank stare- I realized once and for all what a moron I was.

"So, whose up for dad's famous lasagne? Please tell me it is ready, I am starved." Veronica interjects and saves my ass, and somehow I feel grateful.

Keith takes the bait as he ushers her toward the kitchen. "Ah, almost. I am in need of a sous chef, and you look like the perfect candidate." He grabs her bony shoulders with a wink towards his guest and leaves me with the four discerning eyes zeroing in on me.

"Piz." Wallace whispers. "Is everything okay man? I mean are you here to?"

I shake my head, looking much like a toddler being stubborn. "No, no. She is with Logan. I am not stupid enough to fight against that force anymore." They both stare as I continue. "Plus why does everyone assume I just want her back anyways?" Crickets, they greet me again."Fine, whatever. But either way- that is not why I am here. I just wanted to make peace with the past, you could say."_ I guess that __wasn't a complete lie._

Wallace smiles as he reaches for my shoulder. "You should have called. You still have friends here." He motions between him and the short haired, spunky woman beside us as she grins in agreement.

"Though we wouldn't know if we still had a friend in you." She pushes her bony finger into my chest. "After all, the phone has been silent over in New York."

"Yeah, well-"

The loud landline ringing draws all our attention, as the normal sound of a telephone is almost lost now in the days of high tech gadgets. Keith rolls his eyes as he reaches for the phone. "It is an alien device. A phone for the home, one that plugs into the wall." He waves his hands about as Veronica groans from the chopping board he has placed her at.

"Mars Residents."

I cringe at the familiar memory coming back, me calling this very landline and receiving the same greeting from a totally different voice. He seems to creep in and infiltrate every ounce of my mind now as he is so clearly everywhere I want to be and everything I want to be.

Keith's brow furrows. "Uh, sure let me get her." He holds back the mouth piece. "Veronica, it is for you. They said they tried to reach you on your cell- this was the next number listed."

She licks her fingers as she grabs the extended phone. "Hello, this is Veronica." Her voice is still chipper, but I am focused in on a now concerned Keith. Mars intuition was strong and I knew not to doubt it. That look of creased lines and sullen features, it always meant bad news was on its way.

Crash. The glass cookie jar shatters to the tile as Veronica grabs the counter with shaky hand, her clumsy movement sending the porcelain pig to the ground. We all take a step forward as she lets out a hysterical groan, a sob catching in her throat as the combination forms a wail, her knees buckling as we all freeze in paralyzed state. I genuinely was convinced if I moved she would self combust into nothingness.

"H-how?" She stutters with a weakness I have never heard her possess. Keith now rushes to her aid, but she pulls from him with her usual fight as her hands grip the granite again, like it is her life line. "No, no."My mind fills in blanks and scenarios, and It feels as if the universe goes still. Maybe that is what happens when two people as tragically fated as those two receive such news, the entire world mourns along with them. It wasn't hard to figure out the basics of what was playing out before me and now it ran like slow motion.

The phone bounces off the floor in several slow movements before everything speeds up again, my eyes following each broken part. I find myself lost in studying the battery flying beneath the cabinets and the plastic shattering into small shards. I trail the last piece to her corner, the one she has collapsed into an almost minuscule ball in.

"Veronica." Keith says strongly as I see him resist the urge to grab her again. Her head knocks against the cabinetry repeatedly like a clinically insane person housed in a padded room, as she whimpers like a young child. Mac and Wallace are hit with the sensation to rush the kitchen, but I am frozen like a statue as I take in the morbid scene and all it entails.

She knots up her fists as she brings them to her face, rubbing them vigorously over her cheeks, her eyes wandering back and forth between the floor and her father. "Lo- Logan." She says as her mouth opens ajar, her throat unleashing a keening noise that sent a cold shiver through the entire room.

Mac grabs her mouth as Wallace quickly reaches his arm around her, Keith placing his hands on his daughter's face to soften her cry.

"Is he alive?" His voice was laced with a sob about to be unleashed and his affection hits me to the core, as I process the animosity and mourning I am experiencing at once. _What person could still hate him? Even like this? Even seeing her so ripped a part?_

She shakes her head uncontrollably "No, he, he was shot down. They have him." She now sounds hysterical. "They have captured him." She stands up in a jolt as she rushes to the bathroom off the side of the breakfast nook, her wretches of violent heaving echo through the house and I stumble towards the empty chair beside me, my body going limp in the recliner. Her emptying her stomach has an eery mourning to it, and we all stare in silence as the noise slowly fades into weeping.

The break in the stillness is the sight of her hands desperately gripping the side of the door,as she stumbles into view. Her trembling fingers are wiping at her mouth as she points. "The TV." She says breathy. "They called, cause- they have a recording." Her chest rattles as you can see her breaths move fervently under her rib cage. " They are about to show-"

Wallace reaches for the remote, though I am closer, and I feel even more useless as he acts quickly. The CNN news station fills the flat screen as a somber anchor woman is seen, another reminder of what has unfolded. I fight the sickening thought of having to find out with the rest of the world about such a thing, as my sympathetic gaze is locked on the girl I still love as the woman speaks in subdued tones about the man she has always loved.

"We have just received word about two new POW's taken in the middle east. There are no specifics yet, except they are both Naval Aviator's who were shot down what appears to be almost a week ago." Veronica cups her mouth as Keith holds her up, her eyes are the only thing visible as they pool with a steady stream of tears. "We have received disturbing and saddening footage from the captors featuring a Lieutenant Echolls." Her wails intensify again at his name, and with them his face appears.

My heart sinks at the sight, his battered and bruised face, it thinner now. My guess was the lack of food these last few days though I try not to travel down the thought path.

Veronica rushes the TV as she collapses to her knees. And I notice that desperation in his eyes. And though he has plenty to burden him, I recognize the expression instantly. He is thinking about _her._

I had seen the look a few times over the years, when he was so flooded with her it seemed it was escaping his every cell. It was now clearer than ever that all he cared about was her,and she saw it too as her hand reached toward the pixelated version of him. And I wondered how I could still manage to be jealous of him in this moment.

"My name is Lieutenant Echolls. Me and my fellow aviator Louis Hopkins were shot down and have been taken prisoner." Her clutched hand goes flat, palm completely splattered across his face."We beg for you to listen to their requests. Please, we want to come home. We want to see our families. Please don't let us suffer anymore."

Her entire body freezes as his paused face disappears and a pained "_No"_ escapes her as she folds prostrate. I cover my face with my hands, the sight of her sobbing in the floor as her friends and family comfort her flashing between my fingers. I had seen her cry a handful of times in all the time I had known her, and the sight was hard to process as the tough woman melted into the undone state before me.

Truth was it was tragic. Logan Echolls, the love of her life, the girl I swore I was destined to love forever- he wasn't coming back. It was written all over his face. And now I suddenly felt sick-

Veronica moved in a clumsy motion as she pulled herself to her knees, the mascara was caked down her cheeks in thick form as her lips moved downward.

"Dad." Her voice was shrill, and shaky. "You've got to help me get him back."

They all ignored the irrational state and crazy ramblings of her request as Keith pressed his lips into the side of her head.

"Okay, honey. Okay."

"I can't lose him..." She collapsed into her father's embrace now as the stabbing of her cry filled me. Realities that plagued my life recently kept being added to.

New one in- Veronica Mars never loved me like that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry it has taken so long to get this chapter up, you guys! I had family in town this week so I have been crazy busy.**

**Anyways, I want to thank you all for you kind reviews and private messages! I love reading all of your takes and opinions. I appreciate you taking the time to read it and for your advice and love!**

**I had a few people ask me some questions about the story and some choices I made so I thought I would just add my answer as a note so everyone could see it. First off all of you, all of your opinions I completely agree with. They are such complex characters and you each know them so well and I ****always understand exactly what you are saying, as I weigh how to handle it.**

**Veronica's extreme emotional response to the news was something i contemplated so much. The reason i ended up showing it was because Veronica had finally come to a place where she had truly accepted all Logan was to her. And now it was being ripped from her. I imagined with this new vulnerability it would be like her stepping back in time- finding Lilly's dead body. That girl taking over. But with usual Veronica fashion she hides behind those tough shells of hers, which is where we will see her for the the majority of the time he is still captured. But i completely understand why some of you questioned it, as I did too. But i ultimately thought maybe the more mature, and recent vulnerable Veronica would react as such as she is adjusting to this new level of emotion.**

**Another question was Logan's compliance with the captors. I completely feel those of you who voiced this! The reason i chose to do it was because I was trying to show his maturity and his love for Veronica. Almost like if she wasn't in the picture he would have already tried something, but out of respect and love for her he is showing the restraint he never could quite find years ago. Because he wants to make it back to her. ****But i planned for all of the people at home to fear his temper and it getting him killed- and that being an ironic point of the story that he actually shows this new found maturity for her. That is not to say we won't see that rough edge and fighting Logan we all love, a few times during his imprisonment. I mean he doesn't have THAT much self control, right? ;)**

**Anyways, thank you, thank you, thank you for all the great comments and points of discussion! I absolutely love reading them and do read each one. You guys are truly awesome. Please keep sending suggestions and things you would like to see or thoughts you have.**

**Alright, sorry for the long note and for the long wait! Let me know what you think of Chapter 3- your reviews mean so much :) **

**Thanks for reading!**

Logan:

I was always amazed when my body found rest on the damp floor, the wet sand around us clinging to our disheveled uniforms. I am sure they took pride in our sloppy appearance, our hair that was weekly cut to maintain the qualifications was now growing past the guidelines of the Navy code. The beard I had suddenly been able to grow in these last few years covered my face in a haunting shadow, and though I had not had a glimpse of my actual face in days I could feel my cheeks retreating further into my body.

I stretch my aching arms as I crack my neck, Louis curled into a ball across the way. My lips went in a flat, straight line at one look at him. Based on his appearance, I could only imagine the rough level I was reaching.

Misery and pain were our main accessories. The hunger had begun to subside, after a few days of just minimal food your body begins to block out the receptors of your empty stomach. Another funny thing is the way it reacts the same to lacerations of nerves and skin. I already knew this truth for a while, the hunger a new discovery though- as the silver spoon in my mouth from birth had always kept me well fed.

The odd thing is the way the body handles the emotional torment. I am not sure if it was that we were scared to forget, if it was our last shred of hope or just our mind's cruel tricks. But numbing the ache of the ones we loved had not yet been reached.

Her high cheek bones, and prominent smirk flash into my head. She coyly speaks and though her words are muffled, I still get a glimpse of her pixie voice. Her eyes narrow, and light like gasoline on a fire. She had always been spit and vinegar, and sugar and spice.

I groan as my clenched hands reach my mouth, my teeth circling my bruised and scraped knuckles. I was glad she was so permanently sealed upon me, as all those years of recalling her every detail were now my greatest allies. She was stored away in chronological order. The air vibrates in my chest as I pull my knees up to me, resting my elbows on them, hands still clutched to my face. Never had I wanted to remember her more- never had I wanted to forget her more. It was like a complex poem, the way she flooded through me. Desperately I clung to her, and in desperation I longed to not know the pain of it.

I held back the scoff now as I mock myself for even believing to forget was an option. I learned long ago that she was a tattoo on my soul that could never be erased, nothing was removing that permanent mark she left on me. I never wanted it to, and I never would want it to.

I still saw the hallucination of her across from me as I gave in to my mind's kind ways, as it let me experience her. Hair on top of her head in a messy, loose bun, face make up free. Her morning look- my favorite look. Those sleep ridden eyes and the presence of faint marks etched through her soft, porcelain skin.

_She was delicate. _I smile as I lean my head back, I can almost feel her hand as it reaches to trace my cheek for a moment. Her eyes dance with a sheepish admittance at the vulnerability she revealed, my hands cup her face now. She laughs at the tender affection as she pushes me away with a nibbled bottom lip and scrunched nose. _She was fiery._

I growl as my hand reaches my side at the immediate pain. Seems my stomach remembers its empty state in this moment, and I hate the way the weaker muscles tense at the reaction. My lips play up in a snarl as I hiss into the air. I am sure it is my losing grip on reality but I inwardly scold myself for the lost image that was moments ago playing before me, and the startling and common thought follows. _Will I ever see that version again? _The Veronica loosely wrapped in my arms. The first thing I see, morning grumpiness, lingering cuddles under the covers that were never to be spoken of out loud to her- sweet, warm kisses- Veronica.

My eyes watch the door as the anger of it tingles through my limbs, the ideas of what I am being robbed of- the life I never got the chance to live.

I have brave and daring scenarios play through me, ways I could over throw them. I entertain them for my own personal enjoyment, though I never act upon it. I knew I wouldn't make it and I owed her at least the action of trying to make it out alive. Though all the lines were blurring as to what path that meant- as sitting here waiting for my death sentence certainly didn't seem like an action either.

Louis snores loudly and I feel my teeth break through into a smile. It had been a few days since any level of the emotion had flooded me and now my laughter poured out in hysteric reverberation as I heard his sleeping symphony. Days of Dick passed out on the couch, sawing z's was painted through my memory, my small chuckles at it as I flipped through the channels. Veronica, had the cutest version of the sound, though she refused to believe that was ever escaping her. Her raspy breaths and slight sniffle tone used to hit me straight into the heart as I watched her sleep, my lips always finding that tiny nose as she continued to stay in her world of slumber. It's funny how the most simplest and ordinary details of life suddenly become the most magical, when locked away and facing your life's end.

I not once ached for an extravagant trip or place. Not an exotic beach or mind blowing experience. No, I craved the simplest of things. Drives on sunny days, warm showers right after a good surf- running my hands through the heavy salt and sand in my hair. Her lips on mine in the tender, sweet way. The kind you use in a hello or a temporary goodbye. The kind that you did in almost involuntary action, like without second thought. The kind she gave when her eyes never broke away from her computer screen as she studied her case, but her mouth would find mine like a magnet.

My chin rests against my knees and I ignore the way I resemble a child, curled up in sorrow. No one was present, Louis was asleep- I right now was free to mourn. My eyes roll back into my head as the hot flush of grief and its quick companion of piercing cold are on me. It is a slow death.

My head bobs in rhythm to the imaginary beat I keep, my chin playing against my knees and my teeth clattering. It was a slightly deranged look and I was wearing it well and with skill, as the inability to accept what my fate seemed, was like rejecting a poison. My body shook, and it sweat- it was slow and painful- but like a venomous snake bite, death was inevitable without treatment. And me I was holding on for the miracle cure.

Sleep sat heavily through my eyes now, the bodies defenses to avoiding the hard truths. My hands held tight to each other as my head began to wobble in the uncontrollable way fatigue had been playing at me since my prisoner status. I was not entirely sure if it was denial or my subconscious's kind way of helping me cope- but either way I gladly gave, because most the time I met _her _there.

Veronica:

"_You better believe my first born will be a girl, and your namesake." Lilly says as she massages the tanning oil into her skin, the hints of coconut wafting toward me. "Little Ronnie Junior." She gleams with that pesky and mischievous air that she always wears._

_The long board is skidding between us, throwing up the clumpy sand onto the brand new bikini that I just purchased, mostly to get Duncan's attention. But one look at the six strings Lilly dawned as she flicked the clumps off of he barely there ensemble -and my black, traditional suit seams far less sultry than it did at the store._

"_Logan." Lilly's voice has that complex mixture of whimsical and loathing as she says the name, Logan on cue sliding between us as he loosens the wet suit. _

"_Ladies." He ignores her faked disdain as he makes himself comfortable, his elbows at each of us, his lips on hers. My head cocks in fascinated awe as it always does at the way they linger - his full lips play at hers, the way her mouth craves more- makes me often wonder what kissing him must be like. Though it always ends there as I find reality quick, never entertaining it. After all Logan Echolls may have been the charming and cute son of Aaron Echolls, but first and foremost he was my best friend's boyfriend. "What you discussing?"_

"_It is girl talk." Lilly swats at him with the wadded up Seventeen magazine in hand. _

"_Yeah, and your brother ditched me, and the rents have been vacationing in Jamaica for a week now.. so I am desperate for some human interaction. Enlighten me." He rolls onto his back as he teasingly picks at the fabric of my suit. "New bikini, Ron?"_

_I fidget uncomfortably at the attention. Logan loved Lilly, was faithful, but that didn't mean his eyes didn't dance with a sexy edge whenever he noticed something he appreciated. Lilly always found it humorous, I guess their likeness, but the hot laced momentary smoldering from Logan always made me flush._

"_Leave her alone." Lilly snorted with laughter, her amusement in it always made me realize how much more of an edge Lilly Kane had etched through her. There was nothing smooth or even about her, that was for sure. She did a once over on me as her large rimmed sunglasses dropped down the bridge of her nose, Logan biting at his bottom lip in response. "But it is nice, right?"_

_Logan nodded with a perfectly formed okay symbol aimed my direction, with matching smirk and squinted eyes. "Gets my approval. A shame DK, isn't here to enjoy it."_

_Lilly laid back in one of her dramatic huffs. "Idiot." Logan nodded in agreement as I cringed._

"_Can you two stop discussing my attire please, and whether Duncan would like it or not?"_

"_Someone is uptight today." Logan laughs in that husky way that always got him off the hook when he relentlessly picked at the people in his life, as he reclines on his elbows. "So, if Ronnie's wardrobe is off of the discussion block than you can fill me in on the girl talk."_

_Lilly's hot pink nails reflected in the sun as she reached for her smoothie. "I was just saying how my first born will be a fabulous girl and will be bestowed the name of my BFF here."_

_Logan's eyebrows shot up in pleasure. "I like it. Little V." I roll my eyes as he continues. "So Ron, do you have DK's and your babies' names picked out?" _

_I laugh boisterously. "Yeah. I am not the type to entertain the ideas of future child names and whether my home will be pastel or bold colors."_

_Logan flicked at the sand in my hair. "Hm, no fun." _

"_Yeah, and you are telling me you have your future offspring named?"_

_Lilly's large eyes twirled with a wonder and amusement as she sipped at the large straw in front of her. My mouth gaped open at her nods of yes and his shrug._

"_What can I say? I am a warm soul beneath all this manly exterior."_

"_Yeah. So manly." I pinched at his lean frame and he filched with his greatest betrayed face, playing up his dramatic response.. "All right. Let me hear."_

"_Ouch. That hurt." He rubbed the tender skin on his arm. " God, you're like a crab. Small and snappy." He smiled wide now as he saw my eyes flicker with a job well done, him lifting the side of his mouth in that only Logan way, as he answered my question from before. "Evelyn and Lucas."_

"_Evie!" Lilly squealed._

"_And the inspiration?"_

_He shrugged with a proud smirk. "You got to let people have some secrets, Veronica Mars." _

"_You never cease to surprise me, Logan Echolls." I mumbled as my back found its way back to the sand._

"Evie." The name wets my lips, as my eyes keep in sync with the whipping fan on the ceiling. My back aches but I choose not to readjust, maybe it was lack of drive to move, maybe it was nice feeling a pain that wasn't radiating out from my core.

I was surprised by the wetness of my mouth, I had sworn I had cried out every last ounce of moisture from my body yesterday, the sob fest never something I was known for or used to. But now my cold, ice of an exterior was back- the one that formed its hard outer core the night I walked upon my best friend lifeless, her head bashed in and all spark vanquished from her eyes.

Catatonic, coma like, all phrases to describe me- as I watched the blades whirl in motion, seeming ever surprised by the fact that the movement never changed. I had been like this- flat on my back for nearly eighteen hours. Sleep had visited off and on, but mostly the nightmares that came with it made me fight it with all power I still possessed. The alternative was hardly better as I was left to stare at the nothingness surrounding me and was forced to cave into the stroll down memory lane my subconscious pushed me down with a cruel kick. I hated those recesses of myself, the ones that recalled the exact amount of freckles that were speckled across the bridge of his nose. The way his hair stuck up in the back right side upon waking or how his voice was so gruff as he dozed off to sleep his words were barely audible. The reverberation of it in my ear feels almost clear, like I could reach out and caress him now.

My hand drifts outwards, my eyes shut tight, fingers curling into the emptiness. Eyes flash open now, as anger in all its shades of red boil within and streak across me. Images of his sunken cheeks, his desperate eyes. You were never meant to see the ones you love like that.

No, people we love are supposed to ring through our memories with laughter and happiness. Your childhood friend and soul mate should reflect round faces of youth and eyes squinted from happiness, nothing like what I witnessed on the cold, flat screen of my father's plasma TV was ever supposed to be a memory burnt into my mind of _him._

My head worked on overtime to try and rid the image, filling in all the sweeter, calmer, warmer moments of him on overload. The most recent was still fresh around me, the sand felt heavy on my hands and the sea air was still in my nostrils. Lilly looked as alive as I had always remembered her, Logan as light as I had ever seen him. The morbidness of one being truly gone and the other on a path to place himself where my best friend was now, made the clench of the muscles around my heart rigid.

Sentimental- never had the word been much of a description of me. Now- I was everything the word encompassed. Regret of time lost and mournful of what I hoped would not be an end.

One stray tear made its way down me cheek. "Evie." I whispered again.

The truth was not much had changed since that day on the beach. I had not been one to desire kids, I had certainly not been one to pick out their future names. Now the name reflects through me as my mouth tightens in forms of straight lines and sorrow. If I ever was to have a family- children- Logan would have only been the person I ever wanted it with. In fact the two weeks of bliss had me thinking I actually wanted that- and now I see the other shoe begin to drop loudly. The darkness of everything I never realized I wanted slipping away, was like losing grip of the rope that held your existence. _See, this is why you keep him at bay- all he ever does is hurt you. You can't love someone this much and it not-_

The phone rings, it has a lot the last few days, but with each time my body jerks to motion.

I don't recognize the number and the hauntings of worse case scenarios and the hopes of everything working into the way I dream simultaneously combine. "Hello." My voice is sharp.

"Veronica." I barely recognize the voice and before I have to contemplate on who it belongs to, the kind, feminine voice continues. "This is Angie, Jeremy's wife. I -" Her voice cracks in sympathy and grieving and I hate it. Everyone is handling it as if he is already dead. I sit high now as my finger nails burrow into the mattress and sheets, gaining a grip.

"Hi, Angie. Thank you for calling."

"I am so sorry, I don't even know where to begin or what to say- we love Logan very much."

I sigh in defeat as my head hits the head board. "Yeah. Me too." Calculated, apathetic, angry, icy. I can imagine these words that played through most's mind as they witnessed me. After my break down and whaling I became this version, the one I knew how to navigate best, but Angie was making it hard to stay the girl I always pretended to be with her warm voice. Her words of love.

"If I can do anything for you." She offered and I interrupt.

"Does Jeremy know anything?" My interrogation already begins.

"He isn't allowed to tell me much. Just that they were shot down. He told me they are perplexed because it does not appear to be an organized terrorist cell, if terrorist at all." I perked up now, my eyebrows coming together in deductive reasoning, the feeling was nice as it was a temporary shot of novocaine to the deep laceration cutting me from head to toe.

"Wait, what do you mean?"

Her voice shook. "Uh, listen he wasn't even supposed to share that. It kind of slipped out, and honestly I wasn't supposed to say anything. I just feel like you deserve to know." She pauses with hitched breath. "If it was my Jeremy out there- I - I would want to know everything I could."

"So he said nothing else?" I ignore her emotional side as I am sure she detects the lack of emotion in my voice. Calculated, smooth Veronica- she knew how to direct me in times like these. She was faithful in that way.

I can almost see her shake her head no with emphasis. "No, I think they are pretty out of the loop as you would imagine considering their ranks. But, they are all besides themselves - all the missions are on hiatus as of now, and they are all stir crazy as they are waiting for the next phase of bad news."

"Yeah, well Angie." I say her name like I am reasoning with a child and the condescending tone makes me cringe. _How did I always become such a class A bitch when I wanted to retreat into my inner and secure fortress? _"If you hear anymore would you please call me?" I say it like she is a suspect commanded not to leave town.

If she notices she ignores it. She really was kind. "Of course, Veronica." Her voice drawls and wanes as she seems reluctant. "Listen I mean it- if you need anything."

I let the icicles thaw for a moment. "I will call, I promise. Thank you."

"Logan loves you. That makes you family. And family sticks together."

Atomic bomb to the soul, this is why you keep this side locked away. One moment of sincerity, vulnerability and she drops this- my undoing in all forms. Logan's love for me and its reminders were sweet. Bitterness was the accompanying emotion- its reminders of time lost and a future hanging in the balance. Family- Logan and I had no family, my dad my only person left. We were each other's family- and as far as sticking together. I had left him all lone, to fend for himself years ago- and suddenly guilt was all I could see.

I would make sure he returned- my life and his depended on it.

"Hoping and praying for his return." Angie added at the end before her goodbye, my eyes focusing on the phone stiffly placed in my hand. The end call making my background appear- the picture of he and I at the peer just days before he left haunting me. The joyful and peaceful moment now looked so distant. Nothing in that moment could have robbed us of that serenity and now just months later- I was void of all he had left and what I was scared would be a permanent absence.

My legs gave a little when crawling out of my fortress, it was a rushing blood and tingles all through them, my hands gripping the nearest furniture. I suddenly despise the reflective glass my eyes are connecting to, the bloodshot and swollen pair visible on my face. I may have bridled the tears but the remains of them are clearly seen on me now.

The house had been quiet. Dad hadn't done a check in in awhile, Mac and Wallace had been more silent today. I felt like I could breath easier as I stepped barefoot onto the creaky wood floors. It wasn't that I didn't love them, that I didn't appreciate their concern. I was just better off in my head- that world where I tried to find logical reasoning for how he and I ended up here. How I could get him back. They thought it was delusional - I thought it was intelligence. Either way - their mouths may be shut but that look of pity at a fate they thought was already sealed, it was something I could not bare to see.

The fridge door was open wide, as a body crouched behind it, slamming the door with a huff and a startled grunt following at the sight of me. "Uh, Veronica." Piz's voice squeaks.

I nod, as suddenly his presence has a grating affect, and though I know my curt side is far less becoming it seems to be the only version allowed in me. "Listen." I breathe out. "I am not sure when I am going to be able to look into your case now- with everything-"

He held up a hand. "No, I know. I just um, well I am sticking around for a bit."

My face coiled up before I could catch it. "Why?"

He chuckled with a jar mouth at my reaction, a look of terror covering me as he recovered with expected manner. "Um, well I wanted to make sure you were okay."

I lift my mouth in a poor attempt of a smile, as I feel the chords of guilt and ease cover me at a middle ground where they could collide. That was always the place where Piz found me. Somewhere between an icy layer of regret and a familiarness of warmth. "Thank you, I will be-"

"Veronica." He states it so strongly I am surprised it his voice carrying the authority. "Let's not beat around the bush. You love him. He is missing- you are anything but fine." His hands found their way to his pockets in a last attempt of security after his confident display. Piz never was one for commanding exterior, but now you could have fooled me in his expertise in the ability.

A long pause was hanging between us as I leaned against the closest counter and cabinets. Our eyes met in admittance as the bitchy side that had taken up camp since the news had broke, faded. "Yeah. Well, if it is okay with you I prefer to live in the denial that I have created."

"Yeah, well don't get lost there. It sucks when you wake up and realize your life is a lie."

I nod as I ignore his obvious passive aggressive comment, continuing on in my own defense. "Yeah, but what if?"

"What if?" He shrugs, his tone of register somewhere between a statement and question.

"What if he doesn't come back?" My knuckles were visible as my long fingers laid flat in tense state against the cool granite "What if my lot in life is to love Logan Echolls, but never actually have him."

The words run lose from my body before I can actually grab them, before I can actually process who I just confessed that to. Tightening tendons and stricken muscles form through my already cricked shoulders as I glance his way. Piz always had expectant eyes, almost like a Labrador waiting for its owner to just pick up the tennis ball and throw it.

It is true what some people say, that some people just aren't dog people or you aren't that type of breed person. Me? I never picked up the ball, and he was always left waiting- now his recovering gaze as he felt the impact of my rejection again, was all over his kind face in ironic smiles. No malice or anger just pitiful acceptance, and suddenly I realized how rotten I must be.

"Piz, I am sorry- "

"Veronica. We all know the truth. No use you apologizing for it every five seconds."

"I didn't leave you for him. It wasn't like that-" I blurt out. "It was more than just that."

He seems even and calm as he stands closer, his hand reaching the granite before it cups mine kindly. I could almost feel the friendship seeping back through his touch "Yeah. That may be true. Either way. You never could utter those words with such ease with me. Now, they just came out like second nature. With Veronica Mars? That means something." He seems to painfully bite at and swallow the words before he continues. "And trust me. As a person on the receiving end of trying to stand between you two- they have nothing. Even a terrorist group is going to miserably fail." He chuckles. "After all, you don't pick on the people that Veronica Mar's cares for. I have learned that. Especially Logan Echolls."

A weak smile makes it way across my lips, I notice it because the lack of use of the muscle group is obvious as it tingles a bit. I shake my head, my messy pony tail following me as I speak. "Piz, why are you here? Seriously. No one expects you to stay around. Not after everything-"

"Because, Veronica. Because I love you like you love him. Trust me I could not leave even if I wanted to."

I flinch uncomfortably as I avoid his probing gaze, making him laugh. "Don't go all awkward turtle on me, Mars. I know that isn't ever happening. But that does mean I can't just pick up and leave when you are going through this."

"I wish you didn't love me, you know. I wish that so bad." I say desperately as I rub my palms into the counter, the movement so forceful that I am sure I lost my fingerprints into the stone.

"Well, you know how to boost a guys ego that is for sure." I grit my teeth in sheepish expression as I peer back at him, still massaging the counter with a relentless pattern. "But trust me. I wish that about as much as you do, if not more." He said it calm and even with not a hint hostility, just straight truth.

"If it makes you feel any better. I have learned that through experience you forget the ones you are not meant to be with." I shrug as the pain that surrounds the statement and the knife like edge to the truth of my life. My meant to be was no where near me, and may never be again. As true as the forgetting part was for all the others .. Logan would never be shaken. I had nine years to prove that.

"That is oddly comforting." He smiles with a sweet lull of laughter, our eyes connecting, experiencing the first meaningful look since he arrived. The tension started settling as I was suddenly glad for the friend standing next to me in my father's kitchen.

The feeling didn't last long as I came back to the dark shadows circling his eyes, reminding me of the heap of a mess his world was in as well. "I am so sorry all this has fallen during your crisis."

"Eh." He swats at the air. "Leave it to Logan to even outshine me in crisis."

His words make my jaw clench as his eyes bug out from his head, his voice shaking quickly. "Veronica. Oh my gosh. I did not mean that like that." He ran his hands over his face as my instantly tense body language softened at his personal berating. "I sometimes think I have lost a sensor on what determines what escapes my mouth."

I nod with the best attempt at a cordial smile as the front door squeaks open. My dad comes in with arms full of brown paper sacks, his concerned and sympathetic stares on me. Everyone had the sharp intake of breath upon seeing me after separation- always dreading if I had heard the ultimate bad news, relieved to hear the good news of nothing as I knew now to instantly speak.

"No news."

He nibbled at his bottom lip, a chap line forming along them as he had traced them a many a time over the last few days. "I know you aren't hungry. But I am going to cook your favorite anyways. Lasagna. Just in case you decide you are."

I warm slightly though I can still feel the lack of its depth as it never reaches any outward appearance. "Dad, please don't do all that for me."

"I want to." He came toward me, arms wrapping and linking around me, lips meeting my fore head.

The feeling doesn't evoke much, nothing really does anymore- but I know the words I should utter, so I do. "I am so glad I have you. I don't know what I would do."

Piz speaks up now. "Speaking of which. Logan's family- he doesn't really have anymore, right?" The words are like ice water to my back as I retreat from my dad's embrace. " It must be odd not having family members at home awaiting your return."

My dad watches me with cautious eyes as I head toward my purse laid across the counter, the sudden selfishness of my inner world crashes as I remember the one other person Logan Echolls' considers family. And this person was as alone as he was.

"What you doing, Veronica?" My dad asks the question like a child was heading out the door.

"I have to go check on someone." He gives me an unsure gaze as my hands reach into the bag, retrieving_ his_ keys. They burn and hurt as much as I expected as I grip them tightly, the keys digging into my skin as they leave their indention. "And to answer your question, Piz. He has family. It is me. Me and-"

My dad finishes for me. "Tell Dick hi for me. And invite him to dinner, alright?"

"Will do." I say softly, appreciative of how he seems to always get it.

There it is. Shiny and blue, beautiful and charming. Slightly dangerous and a just as mischievous edge to it. It was embodiment of him and as crazy as the inner rambling sounded, it didn't make it hurt any less.

I had been putting this moment off since I heard the news. I had wanted to push it even further, that was until I had a reason to put the fear aside. Logan would want me to check on his oldest friend. There was no keeping me from that beach home now. I could not do much, the lack of control nearly unbearable. But this- this I could do. I could do it for him.

I sniffed at the air like a frantic animal and came up empty. His hints of cologne and after shave were non existence, and I suddenly drew a blank at their tones and reminders.

My hands gripped the wheel as my nose drifted across the steering wheel, desperate for a last inhale of him as I began to beg God for the experience of him, all of him to inhabit this car again. That the last time, that was already forgotten by my senses, that it would not be just the past now. My hands vigorously rub over the wheel, tracing down the interior and along the dials of the radio. Delusions of actually feeling him play through me as I continue the motion. I was fighting hard like I was reaching through a barrier and alternative world to find him. _Didn't he know I wasn't anywhere close to having enough time with him?_

I growl, as my usual response to grief overtakes. Anger. "Dammit,, Logan. You better not leave me."

The dark blue siding off the house castes shadows of sorrow as I approach, the wheels whining into the gravel drive as I place the gears in park. My sunglasses lower as my suddenly shaky right hand approaches them, removing them from my face as the other hand plays at the tips of my fingers to subdue the tremors. Cool and calm, that was my trademark of crisis, yet now I felt all ease of my past self hard to maintain as I stare right at the embodiment of where he and I had shared our last bits of time together.

My boots crunch into the gravel, flashbacks of my first arrival here, all that hung in my head -a different set of demons torturing me as I made my way up to the house. They were still everything to do with Logan- and now their question was still the same. _How are you ever going to go back to life without Logan?_

My unsteady hands ball into fists as I use the power of them to knock against the glass door. No response comes and I lean my head lower to eye inside the shadow ridden house, all light absent as the inside appears still. I bring my hand up again as I knock more furiously, my gaze landing on the view of the ocean. And maybe the rest of the world did not notice, but the waves cracked in slow sloshes and the sky was downcast above it. Maybe nature new the truth as well.

"Dick." My body knots in all the wrong places as his name comes out with all lack of strength and timbre. "Dick!" I say it again, hand knocking loudly.

I fiddle with the doorknob, and though it is going against all privacy, I push open the door further when I discover it is unlocked._ When had I ever respected privacy?_

"Dick?" I say like a whisper as my boots clomp against his floors, the darkness is thick, the only light coming in from the small openings of shut curtains and blinds. "Are you in here?"

That mess of long hair hung over in defeat, his red eyes and swollen nose becoming visible as he slowly lifted his neck. I tried to hide the fear of the image, but seeing easy going, golden retriever Casablancas anything more than that was just another reason to understand the seriousness of the nightmare we were living.

His right hand grips the bottle of vodka as his eyes slit in my direction. "So I guess you heard the news?" His words slur out with nasty annunciation. I nod, as I still study him, his hands shaky and his body rigid as he swigs back another sip. "You happy?" He says accusingly as I take one step closer. "You happy that you have finally succeeded in getting him killed, Ronnie?"

His words, what he meant, it was like wedging a knife deeper into my already gaping wound. I knew why he was saying it. I knew what thought process was leading him there. And even though I had nothing to do with what was happening to Logan, our Logan, he blamed me. I could not fault him for it, I blamed me too.

"Dick, I don't-"

"If you had not high tailed it out of here and left him with nothing he never would have joined!" He screams now, his barely audible whispers now turning into a tirade of pent up frustration. "And he would have never crashed over there, thousands of miles away. And he would never have gotten captured by those bastards." He points at me with a hatred I had never seen encompass him. "This is all on you."

Normally anyone so angry at me would have sparked a slur of disdain and hatred back from me, but it was all absent as I stare onto the best friend that had always stuck by. The one who had taken care of the person I cared about most, even when I had failed to. And I felt nothing but care for him in this moment.

I cautiously step closer, with each step his contortion of malice fading as he begins to violently shake, the sobs pouring out as I take a chance sliding down next him, my hand touching his arm as he folds even more. His face buries into my shoulder as his uneven breaths multiply. "God, what happened to us all, Ronnie?"

I stay even and emotionless as the grown man next to me seeks comfort like a child. "What do you mean?"

"First with Lilly." He sits up now, his dark and heavy eyes, are on me as if I actually know the answer. "It is like when she died it all went to hell. We all used to be friends you know? And then we weren't anymore. We find out Logan's dad killed her. Then DK left. Then there was Beaver." He swallows hard. "Then you leave. And now Logan."

I shrug, the words are lost, my usually smart and cunning mouth coming up empty as I speak. "It got all screwed up."

He nods, wiping his wet nose with a loud sniffle. "He's not coming back." His words are so bleak you can almost feel the death in them. I don't say anything as he has rendered me speechless, me hating him for even speaking it- me understanding exactly why he feels it. "We both know. Logan. He wont play compliant. He will not be pushed around. That is a death sentence in that situation." He growls and I shake a bit at the sudden loud groan. "I just want to tell him he doesn't have to be the damn hero all the time!"

"Yeah, but that is what makes him who he is." I state with the awe and strength that maybe that power I had seen him exude in coming back to me multiple times would win out again.

He slurps his numbing drink as he whispers. "Yeah, but he is all I have left now, Ron."

"Yeah." I can't believe that my fingers lock with his, but they do as I match his despondent whisper. "And he is all I want."

He offers me the bottle and I take a heavy sip, loving the coursing edge that comes with it as the back of my head make contact with the wall. We sit in silence as we each take turns swigging the drink, suddenly Logan's shadows play lightly through the room. Visions of moments of him appearing suddenly and vanishing just as quick.

My throat is hoarse and sore as all it sounds is cold now. I can already feel the callused and hard adaption of me that will take over if he never returns. "I wasted so much time."

The best friend, the person I have openly loathed for years is suddenly the only one I find myself able to talk to. The weepy boy next to me straightens as he reclines his elbows across his knees, staring my way. "I am sorry, Veronica." He never said my name without hints of a jab, and yet now it is clear and sincere. "This isn't your fault. God knows Logan would beat my ass if he ever heard I accused you of it."

I chuckle. "I promise, when he gets home I wont ever mention it."

He loosely smiles now. "I appreciate the mercy." The silence returns as we both hold on and wish for his return, and find a spark of joy at stating it like it was absolute truth.

His eyes dart to the TV as he speaks again, our conversation has been so mixed up and all over, but yet I follow. "Have you watched the news?" I shake my head with an adamant no. I don't have to voice out loud how seeing him, worn and thin, beaten. It is more than I can handle. So I avoid. Like I always do. "Well." He scoffs. "The POW has finally been identified for more than that. Millionaire. Son of Aaron Echolls." He plays his hands up like he is shining a light on a billboard. "Son of a murderer. Once boyfriend of the late Bonnie Deville. Once the main suspect of her murder." He points to the television like the reporters can actually hear him. "He is more than that! The guy is a freaking hero, but all we can focus on is the sins of all those around him. No one can acknowledge that in light of having been surrounded by screwed up people, he turned out to be better than us all." He licks his lips. "We have to tell them."

I hate the fact I am fueled by justice and vindication. I hate the fact that it is the pain pill I dry swallow. But either way I found a tangible fight to grab hold of, as the sparks of hope to follow after overtake me. "We will let him tell them." Dick's confused gaze was on me now, as I lowered my head so he could read my expression. "Dick, Logan is coming home. There is no other option."


	4. Chapter 4

**A hundred apologies you guys! I am so sorry this chapter has taken so long. I have been sick for the last two weeks and writing and editing is not the easiest when you are not feeling so well. Again, so so sorry! **

**Thank you guys for reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please let me know what you think!**

Veronica:

"Uh yes, I understand." I had never been one for tremors, but it seems all levels of emotion manifested in the tips of my fingers these last few days. Truly it was the only last sign of living left in my cold extremities. I suppose a slight reminder I still had feeling, despite the apathetic and cold reasoning I was now operating under. After all, in this business, it is a unquestionable truth that those who burry themselves too deep, those who wear those vulnerable expressions- they don't find the person they lost. And finding Logan was all I cared about now.

I stare at the four sets of eyes locked on me around the rectangular dinner table at my father's home. Dad's famous chili wasn't good enough to attract all of them, especially Logan's BFF- Dick. No, they all had something in common, and though I had not been stated plainly, it was me. They had to make sure ice princess wasn't on the verge of actually cracking and splitting in two. Their motivation was all for different reasons I suppose, but their goal was all the same.

I hung up the cell phone, my father's voice the only one that seemed strong enough to voice aloud. "Everything all right, honey?" he says in that calm reassurances, like he was handling a bomb. I suppose he was, and I guess that was another reason I loved him. He knew underneath the zombie living in his home, was a train wreck about to happen.

"Yeah- I mean." Each pair of expressive eyes widened as I spoke, correcting myself. "Everything is about the same. He is still okay, as far as they know." I state as they took a breath in unison, all seeming unaware at the pent up air they had been harboring in their lungs since I answered the call during our dinner.

"That was a assistant or I don't know- receptionist for some government official." I swat at the air with my hands in a prodding way as I analyze what the woman had said. Her high pitched vibrato still ringing in my head as I swallow.

"Come on, share with the rest, Ron." Dick says slightly agitated, my dad's disapproving glance aimed at the far end of the table where the shaggy blonde was.

Dick was the only one not treating me with kid gloves, I guess it being he was just as concerned about Logan returning for his own personal needs. He was on edge like me, he was family to us, and that meant I got the shrill realities of his grumpiness. It seemed to not please the other companions on my team, but I appreciated it. Maybe that was why he was the one I found myself drawn to. I hated being treated like a porcelain doll on the verge of breaking. Under any other circumstances and they would never treat Veronica Mars, the girl who bailed each of them out of plenty, with such sensitive care. I guess their new way of operating just another loud declaration of how screwed up everything was. Making Dick's still jabbing nature toward me like normalcy, like home.

"Oh, sorry." I say shortly, as I place the napkin on the table. "They said." I rub my temples as the long prattle the woman had gone on still made little sense in my mind. "They said that they want me to be on standby. Something about bringing family members of their soldiers who go missing on board the carrier. I didn't really understand the details, but they said they neutralized the location of the ship and while they are in discussions with the captors they occasionally bring loved ones on board to be ready to greet them when they are returned. And since Logan doesn't have any family left, they asked me to be present. Since I am his beneficiary." I shrug, as my spoon taps along the bottom of my full bowl.

"They want to fly you out to a carrier?" My dad spoke up in shock.

"Yeah." I swirl the chili along the spoon. "That is what they are saying. They haven't made a decision yet, they just want me to be ready if they decide to go that direction."

Mac's cold hands were on me now, their bony texture burying into mine as she scoota her seat closer. "Veronica, are you okay?" She asks compassionately, and I manage to to ignore her as my eyes travel to Dick, who seemed to have a twisted mouth of plenty emotion.

He nods, as he seems to twirl the possibilities of their offer inside his head and I seem ever fixed on the one person who I felt remotely _got it_. "Well, are you going to go?" He spoke.

I nod, placing my utensil down. "I mean yes, of course. I wasn't even considering not going."

"Well, that is a good sign, right? The fact that they are wanting you there. Means they may be close to bringing him home?" Wallace adds with optimism

"Yeah. I hope so." My voice empty as the always nagging side of pessimism was close behind.

He picks up on my tone as his face pulls in on all of his angles. "What?"

Dick is his usual state of attitude lately, shoots my best friend a look, a look of out right annoyance. "Or they want her there to receive the body." It was odd hearing his lack of jovial light or happy timbre, now his gruff voice full of edges.

His words made everyone flinch at the table, me more so than the others, as I place my trembling hands on the chair, sitting on them. My dad's hazel eyes seem to bore into me, but I never acknowledge noticing. One look at him right now, would send me into the hysteria I had been avoiding.

"We just have to wait and see now. And hope and pray it is good news." His calm assurance rang out over the table, the message he spoke only for me.

Dick:

A silence fell over the room. The awkward and forced kind. The one brought on by Ronnie's recent call and us holding back our opinions of what said call meant. I gnawed at the inside of my cheek, eyes fixed on the vacant shell of a usually powerful force across the table. The girl Logan had been in love with for over a decade had always reminded me of a natural disaster. Like a hurricane of blonde hair and quick lips. She was a catastrophic at times, her mousy like features her defense for you to not see the sucker punch she would be sure to land on you. I found her nagging persistence aggravating at most, but the firecracker version was far more becoming than the cold stone of a person she had turned in to.

It pissed me off more than anything. The girl seemed hardly phased now by the disappearance of the guy she supposedly loved. My best friend. The only family I had left. Her lack of emotion and rigid movements made me swear we were close to discovering Veronica Mars true identity- bionic woman. I had always thought the girl was lacking a heart. When I argued my point over the years, Logan reassured me that it was her way of coping. I never saw that- but then again he loved the hell out of her- and seemed to understand the twisted warped way her mind worked. I guess that is why I saw the complex and convoluted way of their relationship. Like clock work and in sync, but always off rhythm. It was just them and I had somehow come to accept the presence of the annoying- once girl detective-gone run away- to full force- back in my life. She loved Logan and that was all that mattered. And I had convinced myself she had changed.

But now as I watch her delicate blue eyes shift across the room, her pursed lips and tightly clenched jaw- she seems calculated and stiff and it makes me feel anything but happy. My face settles into a frown. Veronica Mars was strikingly beautiful, her features so petite and perfectly placed. Another theory that swam through my head often was her being one of those venom biting sirens from story books. You know the ones that lure the handsome sailor into the water and then devour them. In this case Veronica is cast as the siren. And the sailor- she had a long list of them.

I eye the other present guests. Wallace, the person I knew as the robot's BFF, hardly anything more. I could give him one thing he had learned how to operate in the land of Veronica well, much like Logan- finding her quirks endearing.

Then there was Mac. The once girlfriend of my dead brother. The person that far better understood him than I ever did, and the reminder of if I had- he still might be here.

Lastly was Papa Mars. For along time he had represented a time of when my close friend's world crumbled at his accusations and theories. After that he had just been crazy Veronica's dad, and I guess I figured she had inherited the insane from him. Lastly, he was defined as attempted murder of my brother- that one ringing in loud sounds and flashing lights in my head every time I saw him.

The silence is still present as Mac concentrates on folding her napkin in perfect lines on her lap, and Wallace filling his spoon before emptying it back in the bright orange bowl repeatedly. Keith and Veronica appear to be in some sort of mind reading, secret stare down. And suddenly I feel very much like the best friend of the guy that had always been on the outskirts of this group, as I push my chair back to make my exit.

And just like that, shell cracked and exposed I see a glimmer of the girl I once knew as Lilly Kane's best friend. Long hair in pig tails and eyes wide and doe like. She had always been pleasant, an example of innocence and someone you wanted to protect. That quality endearing at a time. The person was almost ghost like, and mostly I forgot they were the same. Truth was that girl died along with her best friend. I guess everyone coped in their own way- Duncan went catatonic, Logan full fledge ass and me bully. Either way- seeing her- the once vulnerable version in her eyes as they dart to me, makes my backside find the seat again as she relaxes.

I see glimmers of tears but for a moment as her upper lip stiffens, her tiny hands folding across each other on the table. _Well, looky there. It appears Veronica Mars may be human after all._

The Mars' new home had a fairly nice porch on it, and it wasn't surprising to find Veronica escaping to its secludedness. She peers up from knees at her chin and I smile at the once friend and now mutual experiencer of my pain. She still seemed hard, but her breaks in inhuman behavior somehow made me stick around. Partly it was duty- duty to a person once a friend. It also was a sense of understanding. Seema she was the only person alive that could understand the hell of this screwed up situation. And lastly it was because I knew Logan would kick my ass to hell and back if he ever found out I left her. Especially after that heart shattering look she bestowed on me at the dinner table.

I place my hands in the pockets of my jeans, the California air had a slight chill to it tonight. "Hey Ron, I am headed out."

She nods with a a half crooked grin. "Thanks." She swallows as she still seems astounded at her and I's truce. "Thanks for coming tonight. It helps- having the other person in his life here." She states with no emphasis or inflection, but her eyes shift rapidly.

"Yeah. No problem."

I reach the creaky steps and have that heart tugging, nagging presence of looking back. Logan's gruff like qualities shouting commands as I give in. Her balled up form, and her stoic expression gone crazed struck me. It was like she felt trapped and I began to wonder what it was like to be her. The girl who prided herself on never feeling much but anger. The one tough as nails and armor like a tank- was now gutted and left exposed to the elements. And like a baby left abandoned, the girl seems to have no understanding on how to navigate in this scary world. She was acting on her usual mode of self preservation, yet the shields never raised properly and underneath it all we all saw the once fearless girl who made our lives hell- we saw she was scared.

"Hey Veronica." I shout back. "You know if you ever need to get away- you can always use to guest bed at my place. No questions asked. Anytime."

She blinks for a moment as she responds. "Thank you."

Veronica:

The sensation of fever and goose bumps, that consuming chill hit me as I stir in the sheets. I frantically and with eyes tightly closed pull the heavier blanket on me, the aqua fresh scent and suede texture playing at my memory as I my eyes slant open to the world.

I take in the makeshift dining nook turned guest bedroom, the wood floors and anchor and ship decor spread through out. Oddly the place struck a familiar register of inklings of home and love. Noticeably absent was the usual beaming sun, the dark curtains pulled tight, a new addition to Casa Casablancas.

I roll to my side, my shirt bunching as I pull at it, the evenly displaced holes from years of wear and tear make me smile as my hands knot into the old graphic I purchased for Logan that New York trip after graduation. Seems he must have found the same level of nostalgic warmth from the article as well, as he seems to have worn it plenty this last decade.

The clanks of pots and slamming of cabinets is like a happy memory. I try not to dwell on the short time I spent hear, my first greetings Logan in boxer briefs and conjuring up some sort of breakfast for us. I smirk at the thought of his mouth full of cereal and the way the sun light danced across his tan skin.

My feet hit the creaky floors and it is like I have each one memorized as I expect the sound before it happens as the AC blows through the vents on high, causing my goose bumps to multiply. Dick's house was like living in the North Pole right in the middle of Southern California, the icicles I was forming when I awoke should have been sign enough of where I had spent the night last night.

"Dick?" I say with morning voice, not even batting an eye at the fact I was wearing just the long t -shirt and had impressive bed head. Dick Casablancas becoming like family had been surprising to me over the last few months. He had been kind to me when Logan was still here and after he deployed he has routinely checked in on me. Even helped me with a case or two. Now. Well, now. It is hard not to feel like we are all the other has.

"Hey, Ronnie." He says with slight smirk, tossing the pancakes onto a plate. He sits them in front of the seat I crawl into, pushing the Corona bottle next to it.

"Pancakes and beer." I state as I find the reason to his logic. Beer seemed a much better way to start out this day than coffee. He and I both knew that by now. He nods in return as he brings his bottle to his lip, filling his fork with a large bite."Thanks, Dick." I say it behind the mouth full and his eyes narrow with understanding. He got it. He knew all I meant, and I suddenly had a better understanding as to why Logan had kept him around all these years. He had a way of listening and caring that was silent but ever present. And Logan, he had needed that. And me? Suddenly I needed that now too.

Over a week of knowing Logan had been captured and I hated to admit how much more my mouth had experienced the flavors of alcohol, my mother's demons ever so faintly tormenting me as I took another sip. It was cold and I liked it. The ability it gave me to focus, and that clear mind and no time for tears. It was just the place I like to be. Somewhere in that delicate space between sober and drunk.

"So, do you think you will hear from them today?" Dick asks.

I shrug. "I don't know. I am just ready for them to make their minds up. I have no leads here, except what Angie briefly said. But without military clearance, I don't care if I am freakin MacGyver, I can't do much. But getting on that ship- maybe. Maybe I could get some sort of direction." I stab at the plate with the tip of the fork. "I don't know. I really don't. But I have no other way to go." I play my tongue along the edges of my teeth and jaw as I feel the ever present and encompassing emotion of anger and frustration flood my overly exposed senses. "And me sitting around here, unable to do anything." I look up at my old friend turned new. "I am going to go insane."

"Well, Logan has never been more lucky to have a BA girlfriend than now. If anyone can find something out in top secret military surroundings it is you."

I smirk as I place the large, fluffy cake in my mouth. "Why thank you, Dick. I believe that was a compliment."

The office met me with a cold air. I had not been in since that day Piz arrived. The day my worries went from when my next email would come to if I would ever see him again.

I fire up the laptop, the sentimental value of a picture of us appearing. Logan had always been that way, pictures of me decorating lap tops and night stands. Me- I had always gone with the sterile look. No signs of emotional attachment- means there are none. At least that is how it worked in my head. But I decided to branch out in the small gesture. After all I was turning over a new leaf. Now it seems this softer, domestic side liked to punish me as I take in his sparking brown eyes, and slight creases near them from age. Those had not been present with the Logan I knew years ago, yet I found them to be a new addition I adored, letting my lips trace them periodically when he had been in my presence. Maybe it was the distinguished way his older appearance had made him look, or maybe it was the proof that he had at least smiled some over these last ten years. Enough to form deep lines. My eyes slant towards my smiling face staring back, the absence of signs of age on mine as I realize the magnitude in the lack of smirks and crooked grins this last decade.

I open the google box as I need my much better mechanical side to take over. After all this was what I did best. Solving cases that were beyond my reach, that some would say were impossible. I type out a many of options, mostly to do with non terrorists threats in the middle east. Ones that had particular hostility toward Americans, narrowing it to soldiers and then pilots. As you can imagine pages upon pages appear and yet nothing distinct or tying to him was clear. I huff as my fatigued and tensed hands relax, slamming the screen with one quick look at him as a taunting goodbye.

I check my phone, hoping for good news, yet just a text from my mother was waiting. Her lighting up my screen by her formal name. I had not had the heart to make her mother again in any official fashion. She sent a picture of her and the new auditor to my life. Both decorated with the chocolate ice cream of Amy's around their mouths. I smiled faintly before the image burnt. My brother was adorable, and me admitting a kid was cute was pretty uncharacteristic. My issues laid with Lillian and though at this point I am convinced she can do no right by me, I still found it insensitive. Surely dad had informed her of my circumstances, and surely she had to remember the hundreds of memories that played out much like the image before me. My face decorated with the same flavor. I grit my jaw as I reluctantly save the picture to my camera roll. Maybe that was it. Maybe I had missed her far more that I wanted to admit.

That darn bell chimes, all annoying and cheery like as Piz's face follows it again. I try my best to hide the way I feel he has interrupted my own private moments, his presence still nagging despite my attempts to find a friendship again. I have to fight this way side of me, that leave it all behind motto. His eager expression as he walks through the door makes me want to do nothing more than hide under the desk.

"Hey." He says, purposefully holding back a smile.

"Hey." I return, my voice flat and cold like a corpse.

"I saw your car- I mean, uh his car outside." He stutters awkwardly as he walks in his hand rubbing over his face vigorously. "Uh, anyways." He smiles again. "I wanted to check on you."

I look down, as I bite at the tip of my tongue. I was pissed today, and Piz was as good of target as any. "Oh you know. My boyfriends is being held captive in some foreign country and I have no idea if he is okay. If they even feed him or where he sleeps. Or if I will ever see him again. So not doing so great." I always have had a way of speaking so smooth and precise when angry. Something about it seemed to strike fear into my victims and that look now covers my ex boyfriend's face.

"Veronica." He whispers like I have officially broken him like a damaged toy.

I sigh as my hands find their was to my hair, tugging on the messy knot I am wearing. "I am sorry. I am not the best company right now."

"Understandably."

I look up through my spread fingers at his still lingering hurt as he tries to push through. "I am more angry at myself. I can't find any damn lead to go off of! And every minute that passes seems like it is bringing his death one minute closer."

"You aren't a super hero, Veronica. Some circumstances are just beyond our control. You know that, right?"

I held silent as I study him, sudden revelation and clarity making itself known as I look into his concerned face. He gazes at me like I am delicate and break able. Like I am just merely human. And I finally saw it.

Logan had always taken me in like I was unearthly, like my powers and abilities were endless. As if he expected for a fact that I would always come through. It wasn't a lack of concern of safety, there was plenty of that there. But he knew at the end of the day I would win. And that was why I was going to again, because I need that look of total belief gazing back at me. That _I can do anything_ gumption he possesses and portrays onto me.

Piz's nose always creased in the middle when confused, that distinct line now making itself known. "What?"

I smirked at my own personal secret as I resolve to keeping it quiet. No sense in hurting him anymore. "I am sorry I bit your head off."

He softens a bit. "It is no problem."

We both startle at the loud ringer on my phone that overpowers the office. I have had the volume turned up to obnoxious levels since I finding out about Logan's disappearance. There was not a chance I was going to miss a call about him.

I frantically retrieve the phone from the desk, my hands fumbling as I began to answer the unrecognizable number.

"Hello." My breath shakes like I had just ran up a flight of stairs.

"Miss Mars?" The nasally voice on the other end responds.

""This is she."

"I am calling on behalf of Lieutenant Echolls." She pauses and I wonder if she realizes how cruel that is.

"Yes?." Edge was all that was present in my voice as I try to reign in the hostility she has created by her lack of sensitivity.

"I am not at liberty to discuss all the details. But they have received more word about his whereabouts. He is still alive and I was told to notify you. Also to ask when you can be in San Diego?"

Every muscle tightens as I grip the mahogany desk my dad purchased for himself a few years ago. "I can be there in just a few hours."

"Alright. Call this number when you arrive at the base and you will have escorts waiting for you. Be sure to pack well. We don't know how long you will be gone."

"Where am I going?"

"The Navy is escorting you to a confidential location. They want you near if they are able to negotiate the Lieutenant's release."

The word _if _stands out among the rest as my heart thumps in rhythm with my breaths. "I will be there as soon as I can."

Logan:

High caliber machine gun to your back, and hands crudely tied behind you. Never sensations I hoped to know well, but now as they usher me down the dimly lit hall I more preoccupied with that feeling of _things are going to get worse _than the other unsettling realities. It is there, and with unwelcome presence and overcoming vibrato.

The circumstances had been oddly quiet since the recordings, the last few days lacking the usual harassment and beatings. They delivered the food, and they left. They didn't even speak. And though Louis took comfort in their changed ways, I had the distinct impression that this peace was a bad sign of a layaway of pain we were now accruing.

Now my inklings and theories were on the path of becoming true as they moved me down the hall. They had yet to move us since we arrived and now the sudden change in tactics- it all screams what our training had taught us. Things were about to screw us over badly.

They stop me with an unneeded jerk, it obvious the call for their best behavior these past few days was grating on them as they took the opportunity to lash out. It shows more than one thing, the most important- confirming they were answering to someone else. Someone far more calculated. Someone with far bigger plans than bullying and terrorizing a couple of American soldiers.

The door before me was like a dazzling light. Reflective and neon. Shiny and new. It didn't belong and I eye it with inquisitive instinct. I would like to claim this instinct to my own natural abilities but my head knew to not let me believe such untruth. Me, my subconscious and inner voice, we all know the truth. My doubt everything, eyes pealed and always cynical out look had come from one girl. A girl that up until a few months ago was a monument placed in my past. She had taught me well, to see worlds that most didn't. And her renewed freshness in my life was like sharpening the skill. I found my head reciting in inner question. _What would Veronica do?_

Screeches of hinges and non verbal communication, and soon I was ushered into a decent size room. The lack of dirt floors and appearance of gleaming, modern furniture was like being snapped into a place that didn't belong. My widened eyes are hardly able to register the sight as they are too overcome with the other odd vision.

The man stood in the center, arms outstretched and best mad scientist grin. The kind you saw on your Saturday morning cartoons.

"Welcome." He says, and in any other circumstance I would have received his tone as cordial. The gingery, maroon shade of his hair mixed with his european accent makes his ethnicity as much of a mystery as what was actually taking place.

His mannerism are expressive as he eyes me. "Oh un-tie him. Can't we behave as gentleman?" He says in fake scolding of the men who obeyed his every order.

_Gentleman_. The word hung in my head as I bitterly whisper it. _Yeah where was your gentleman nature when your men were beating the hell out of us, or screaming expletives in our face? Or when tyou burned my last shred of sanity in this place?_ My jaw clenches, as they loosen the rope, and I refrain from massaging where they had tied them too tight.

He gestures to the black, sleek chair pushed against the table. Oddly reminding me of Ikea catalogs. "Sit. Please."

I still stifle any noise as I begrudgingly take the seat, and he looks at me like a prize stallion a billionaire has just purchased.

The room is too dark for me to make out the color of his eyes, but whatever they are they gleam with a twinkle that makes my stomach twist. And that was enough motivation to make the inner jack ass be on alert. I was no one's pawn. And I could tell by his sick joy, that he has a nasty game of chess mapped out in his mind.

My jaw is set, my eyes narrowed, and my smirk in place. Defenses are up, and little did this bastard know... He captured the wrong solider. I had many a verbal spar under my belt, and hell- I never caved- not once. The only person ever bringing me to my knees was no where near as she was safely thousands of miles away. There was no way I was cracking. And based upon his tailored suit, and smell of cuban cigars, I would say I knew how to speak another language of his. Money.

"So. Mr. Echolls." He says as he pulls out his seat, the lighting shifting to reveal his face more. He was hardly aged, just slight wrinkles around his eyes. Based upon his still youthful features and fair skin he appears no more than forty, making the obvious question come to mind. _What in the hell does he want with two US soldiers? _

His voice breaks through again. "We appreciate your cooperation with the video days ago." He pauses to wait for a response, grinning slightly at my silent stare down as he continues. "You really are like a gold mine. Not only a proud Naval Aviator for the land of the free, ah but also one of their famous socialites, as well. What a jack pot." I tap my fingers along the table, and he now busts into laughter at my ease. "I must say, your demeanor, it is impressive."

I shrug as I recline back, his body shifting, arms overlaying across his finely crossed legs. "Truly, stumbling upon you was what I call great fortune. No pun intended." His accent was heavy, though it reminded me of nothing.

I scoff now."Yeah. Stumbled. More like shot down." I correct him with a broad smile and he returns it.

"Ah." He raises his hands. "He speaks." His chin lowers as he leans closer. The pointed edges of it prominent now "No, stumble is correct. Do I like like a man who has high power military weapons at his disposal?" He says in mock humility.

My eyes travel to his well armed men. "I have learned you can never trust a man with more money than he knows to spend."

"Ah, and you recognize one of your own, hm? A man of wealth and privilege." He pauses, the kind that is slow and deliberant. "I would love to take credit for it, but it is true. We just found you, and what a glorious find you were."

I wink. "Hm, that is what the ladies say."

"Another way we are alike." He says amused. "So shall we get to business, Mr. Echolls?"

My hand motions in "go on" manner, a sarcastic smile all the while painted on my mouth. "Well, a rule in business we are not following is that you seem to know my name. But I don't know yours." I say, interlocking my hands in front of me.

He nods, his watch reflecting the harsh lights as he traces the seam of his pants. "And it will stay that way for now." His voice is curt though he is still able to keep his snarled smile in place.

"Seems you don't know much of business than- Sir-" I emphasis the formal name, my spit flying from my mouth in the dramatic syllables.

He appears to find my tenacity endearing. I am guessing that was the only reason I was not having my ass beat in this moment. I wasn't surprised though. These type of men usually respect one thing- and that is fearlessness.

"Well, first things first, we must clean you up. I apologize for your crude accommodations. Unfortunately I am redecorating." He says with jesting pricks.

"So hard to find a good contractor these days, right?"

He cocks his head, my attitude grating on him as the corners of his eyes twitch, though he still wears his smile. I knew the look well. Well refined man, on the verge of explosion- I could read them like a book. I have Aaron Echolls to thank for that.

"Well, back to the things at hand. You." He points with pride. "You will be like my spokesperson, per-say. Clean you up, and you report back to your fine people. Or well, at least through recording. As you understand you can't leave till negotiations are over. You tell them how wonderful we are to you, and in exchange they agree to our terms. You are safe and happy then they will want to keep it that way, hm?"

I scowl, and he seems pleased to have finally penetrated my armor a tad. "See, it is good that you were found. Your buddy, ah he is less poised. I don't believe he could hold manage to speak without sputtering and blubbering. But we don't need him. We have THE Logan Echolls. And well, I am very pleased."

My shoulder tightens at the silent threats. "Don't hurt him." I warn.

He throws his hands up with a chuckle. "Woah, who said anything of hurting him?" I relax a bit, though I know his warnings were loud and clear. "So, what do you say, partner?"

I crack my knuckles as I lean forward, him awaiting my response in expectation. "Great proposal. Really." I hold up an okay sign. "Superb. But..." I draw out the last word with sorority girl accent and fake sympathy. "I think I am going to have to pass."

He pulls his lips in in a pout,like he expects the reaction and I furrow my brow condescendingly in response. "Well, I am afraid if that is the case, than things are going to have to get far more unpleasant."

I put my hands behind my head as I smile wide, all ease taking over as jack ass me is navigating this, and I am in cruise control. "Oh no. That is a shame."

He stands now as he runs his fingers over the table, and I notice the gaudy assortment of rings placed on each finger. "Hm. Okay then." He clears his throat. " Aymil." One of his evil soldiers jumps to attention. "Call, Norese, tell him to head to Neptune, California, and to track down that little, blonde detective I had told him about." He rubs his fingers over his chin, as my hands lose the lock behind my head, falling to my sides as gravity wins. He sees the first presence of fear now in my eyes and is pleased. "Hm, what was her name?" He lifts his chin, showing those distinct edges again. "Veronica Mars. That was it."

My fists slam into the table as I startle the men, their guns higher now as their not surprised boss waves for them to lower them. "Stay away from her!" My voice is guttural and I am sure to anyone around I sounded like a wild animal.

"Mr Echolls, you underestimate me." My arms are covered in long sleeves, but even so, I can still feel the veins throb with each second passing as the red of rage fills my every ounce. "I know a proud and stubborn man like you. One with no true family, and more money than he can spend. A man like that who joins the military, he is looking for a higher type of life. And that means you would gladly take the hero's death. Death doesn't scare you." He looks deep into my eyes, that arrogant smirk not present for the first time. "You. You are motivated by the few people left that you care about. You- are motivated by protecting them from the fate that many you have cared for have already suffered. Death." He leans forward, with each word the smoke and fog of control of my collected self fading. The out of control and violent man of my past trembling beneath my shaking hands. "Her. You are motivated by that girl. Veronica Mars." I clench at just the mention of her on his lips and he smiles again. "See." He clicks his tongue as he steps away in casual form. Seeming not like a man that just threatened everything left that I cared for. "She is rather beautiful. I can see why she is such a treasure, Lieutenant. I am sure my man would love to appreciate all of that beauty before he followed through on his-"

The sensation of knuckles crashing into another's bone was one I would think would be like second nature. At a time it would have been, but that me had been retired awhile, resurrected again here recently. Yet, the fuel of the power and the desperate need to try and control _her _protection pounds through me. And oddly brought comfort, my body on top of his nows as I repeatedly punch that bastard's smile away.

Cool metal against my cheek, my eyes slant towards the barrel pressed against me. I don't even care as I straighten my stance for another punch, their leader motioning for them to not shoot as they pull me off, my fist getting one last slam into his now battered mouth- the one that will think twice about uttering her name again.

Boot to the gut, they kick me into the corner as the nameless nemesis rises to his feet, straightening out his suit. He laughs as he wipes the trickling blood and thumbs it away. "You have one impressive right hook, Lieutenant." His tall, slender frame heads towards the door now as he peers over his shoulder. "Careful now, I think you may be exposing your soft under belly."

I wad up a large conglomeration of spit as I hale it towards him, the universal symbol of the bird made in prominent form on my clenched fist as the guard lands a punch across my face.

I mumble behind the new blood pooling at my lip. "Don't touch her."

He seems to catch everything I mean in my tone as his brows pull in curiously. "Are you threatening me?"

"Warning." I now wipe away the blood pouring from my lips. " Because, sir. You take away a man like me's sanity. You don't want to see me crazy. I assure you."

"Hm, I think we may be able to reach an agreement soon, Lieutenant." He opens the door, the metal clanking loudly. "You sleep on it. And my guy - he will keep away for a little longer."


End file.
